GENERAL  CROOK 

AND  THE 
FIGHTING  APACHES 

EDWIN  L.SABIN 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  THE 
FIGHTING  APACHES 


FIFTH    IMPRESSION 


The  American   Trail  Blazers 

"THE  STORY  GRIPS  AND  THE  HISTORY  STICKS" 

These  books  present  in  the  form  of  vivid  and  fascinating 
fiction,  the  early  and  adventurous  phases  of  American 
history.  Each  volume  deals  with  the  life  and  adventures 
oi  one  of  the  great  men  who  made  that  history,  or  with 
some  one  great  event  in  which,  perhaps,  several  heroic 
characters  were  involved.  The  stories,  though  based  upon 
accurate  historical  fact,  are  rich  in  color,  full  of  dramatic 
action,  and  appeal  to  the  imagination  of  the  red-blooded 
man  or  boy. 

Each  volume  illustrated  in  color  and  black  and  white. 

INTO  MEXICO  WITH  GENERAL  SCOTT 
LOST  WITH  LIEUTENANT  PIKE 

GENERAL  CROOK  AND  THE  FIGHTING 
APACHES 

OPENING  THE  WEST  WITH  LEWIS  AND 
CLARK 

WITH  CARSON  AND  FREMONT 
DANIEL  BOONE:  BACKWOODSMAN 

BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND 
TRAIL 

CAPTAIN  JOHN  SMITH 

DAVID  CROCKETT:  SCOUT 

ON  THE  PLAINS  WITH  CUSTER 

GOLD  SEEKERS  OF  '49 

WITH  SAM  HOUSTON  IN  TEXAS 

WITH   GEORGE   WASHINGTON    INTO 

THE  WILDERNESS 
IN  THE  RANKS  OF  OLD  HICKORY 


"GET  DOWN,  GET  DOWN!"  THEY  ORDERED,  FURIOUSLY,  IN  APACHE 

Page  214 


GENERAL   CROOK 

AND  THE 

FIGHTING  APACHES 

TREATING  ALSO  OF  THE  PART  BORNE  BY  J1MMIE  DUNN  IN  THE 
DAYS,  I87I-I886,  WREN  WITH  SOLDIERS  AND  PACK-TRAINS  AND 
INDIAN  SCOUTS,  BUT  EMPLOYING  THE  STRONGER  WEAPONS  OP 
KINDNESS,  FIRMNESS  AND  HONESTY,  THE  GRAY  FOX  WORKED 
HARD  TO  THE  END  THAT  THE  WHITE  MEN  AND  THE  RED  MEN  IN 
THE  SOUTHWEST  AS  IN  THE  NORTHWEST  MIGHT  BETTER  UNDER- 
STAND ONE  ANOTHER 

BY 

EDWIN  L.  JJABIN 

AUTHOR  OF  "OPENING  THE  WEST  WITH  LEWIS  AND  CLARK," 

"BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL,'!   ETC. 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  CHARLES  H.  STEPHENS 
PORTRAIT  AND  A  MAP 


PHILADELPHIA  tf  LONDON 
J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,   I9I8,  BY  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 


PRINTED  IN  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


TO  THE 
TYPICAL  AMERICAN  SOLDIER 

WHOSE  MOTTO,  LIKE  GENERAL  CROOK'S,  IS  BRAVER?, 
EFFICIENCY,  AND  "JUSTICE  TO  AM." 


M25178 


"Then  General  Crook  came;  he,  at  least, 

had  never  lied  to  us.    His  words  gave 

the  people  hope.       He  died.      Their 

hope  died  again.    Despair  came  again." 

Chief  Red  Cloud  of  the  Sioux 


FOREWORD 

"  IT  should  not  be  expected  that  an  Indian  who  has 
lived  as  a  barbarian  all  his  life  will  become  an  angel 
the  moment  he  comes  on  a,  reservation  and  promises 
to  behave  himself,  or  that  he  has  that  strict  sense  of 
honor  which  a  person  should  have  who  has  had  the 
advantage  of  civilization  all  his  life,  and  the  benefit  of  a 
moral  training  and  character  which  has  been  transmitted 
to  him  through  a  long  line  of  ancestors.     It  requires 
constant  watching  and  knowledge  of  their  character  to 
keep  them  from  going  wrong.     They  are  children  in 
ignorance,  not  in  innocence.     I   do  not  wish  to  be 
understood  as  in  the  least  palliating  their  crimes,  but 
I  wish  to  say  a  word  to  stem  the  torrent  of  invective 
and  abuse  which  has  almost  universally  been  indulged 
in  against  the  whole  Apache  race.     .     .     .     Greed  and 
avarice  on  the  part  of  the  whites — in  other  words, 
the  almighty  dollar — is  at  the  bottom  of  nine-tenths 
of  all  our  Indian  trouble." 

GENERAL  GEORGE  CROOK 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  JIMMIE  DUNN  is  BADLY  FOOLED 21 

II.  JIMMIE  LEARNS  TO  BE  APACHE 34 

III.  THE  RED-HEAD  TURNS  UP 43 

IV.  THE  CANVAS  SUIT  MAN 53 

V.  JIMMIE  REPORTS  FOR  DUTY 65 

VI.  THE  PEACE  COMMISSION  TRIES 77 

VII.  JIMMIE  TAKES  A  LESSON 85 

VIII.  THE  ONE-ARMED  GENERAL  TRIES 98 

IX.  THE  HORRID  DEED  OF  CHUNTZ 113 

X.  ON  THE  TRAIL  WITH  THE  PACK-TRAIN 1 19 

XI.  IN  THE  STRONGHOLD  OF  COCHISE 129 

XII.  GENERAL  CROOK  RIDES  AGAIN 140 

XIII.  HUNTING  THE  YAVAPAI 152 

XIV.  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  CAVE 165 

XV.  JIMMIE  is  A  VETERAN 178 

XVI.  THE  GENERAL  PLANS  .WELL 185 

XVII.  BAD  WORK  AFOOT 194 

XVIII.  "  CLUKE  "  GOES  AWAY 203 

XIX.  JIMMIE  SENDS  THE  ALARM 211 

XX.  THE  GRAY  Fox  RETURNS 221 

XXI.  To  THE  STRONGHOLD  OF  GERONIMO 228 

XXII.  WAR  OR  PEACE? 237 

XXIII.  GERONIMO  PLAYS  SMART 246 

XXIV.  PACK-MASTER  JIMMIE  MEETS  A  SURPRISE 254 

XXV.  ON  THE  JOB  WITH  CAPTAIN  CRAWFORD 262 

XXVI.  FOES  OR  FRIENDS? 273 

XXVII.  THE  WORST  ENEMY  OF  ALL 286 

XXVIII.  THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL 298 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGB 

"Get  Down,  Get  Down!"  They  Ordered,  Furiously,  in  Apache 

Frontispiece 

General  Crook 13 

Had  the  First  VoUey  Killed  Anybody?     Didn't  Look  So 61 

It  was  the  Piercing-eyed  Geronimo! 131 

Hurrah !  It  was  Nan-ta-je 179 

"  Why  Don't  You  Speak  to  Me  and  Look  with  a  Pleasant  Face?  "  290 

MAP 
Apache  Arizona 21 


GENERAL   GEORGE   CROOK 

From  "On  the  Border  with  Crook."    By  Captain  John  C.  Bourke. 
By  Courtesy  of  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 


MAJOR-GENERAL  GEORGE  CROOK 

CALLED  by  the  Indians  the  "  Gray  Fox,"  because  of  his  weather 
worn  canvas  suit  and  his  skillful  methods.  Admired  by  them 
also  as  "  a  common  man  who  makes  war  like  a  big  chief." 
He  first  organized  the  army  pack-mule  trains,  and  employed 
Indians  to  fight  Indians.  He  was  noted  for  his  dislike  of 
"  show,"  his  strict  honesty,  his  incessant  hard  work,  his 
great  endurance,  and  his  knowledge  of  Western  animals 
and  Indian  ways. 

Born  near  Dayton,  Ohio,  September  8,  1828. 

Graduates  from  West  Point  Military  Academy,  1852,  No.  38 
in  his  class.  Assigned  as  second  lieutenant,  Fourth  Infantry, 
and  stationed  in  Idaho. 

First  lieutenant,  March,  1856. 

Captain,  May,  1861.  Meanwhile  has  been  wounded  by  an  ar- 
row during  campaigns  against  the  Indians  in  Oregon  and 
Washington. 

Appointed  Colonel  of  the  Thirty-sixth  Ohio  Volunteer  Infantry, 
September,  1861,  and  drills  it  so  thoroughly  that  it  is  styled 
the  "  Thirty-sixth  Regulars." 

Brevetted  major  in  the  regular  service,  May,  1862,  for  gallantry 
at  the  battle  of  Lewisburg,  West  Virginia,  where  he  was 
wounded. 

Brigadier  general  of  Volunteers,  September,  1862. 

Brevetted  lieutenant-colonel  in  the  regular  service,  September, 
1862,  for  gallantry  at  the  battle  of  Antietam,  Maryland. 

Brevetted  colonel,  October,  1863,  for  gallantry  at  the  battle  of 
Farmington,  Tennessee. 

Commands  the  Army  of  West  Virginia,  August  and  September, 
1864. 

Major-general  of  Volunteers,  October,  1864. 

Double  brevet  of  brigadier-general  and  major-general  in  the 
regular  service,  March,  1865,  for  gallantry  in  the  Shenan- 
doah  Valley  campaign. 

Commands  the  cavalry  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  spring 
of  1865. 

Commands  Department  of  West  Virginia,  1865. 

Assigned  as  major  of  the  Third  U.  S.  Infantry,  July,  1866,  and 
stationed  in  Northern  California. 
18 


MAJOR-GENERAL  GEORGE  CROOK 

Lieutenant-colonel,  Twenty-third  U.  S.  Infantry,  July,  1866,  to 
command  in  the  Boise  district,  Idaho,  where  he  makes  a 
reputation  as  an  Indian  campaigner  against  the  Warm  Springs 
Shoshones  or  Snakes  of  Oregon. 

Appointed  to  command  the  Military  Department  of  the  Columbia 
(the  State  of  Oregon  and  the  Territories  of  Idaho  and 
Washington),  July,  1868. 

Transferred  to  California,  1870. 

Appointed  to  command  of  the  new  Department  of  Arizona, 
June,  1871. 

By  reason  of  his  success  with  the  Apaches  of  Arizona,  is  pro- 
moted from  lieutenant-colonel  to  brigadier-general,  October, 

1873- 

Transferred  to  command  the  Department  of  the  Platte,  with 
headquarters  at  Omaha,  March,  1875. 

Campaigns,  with  pack-trains  and  Indian  scouts,  against  the 
Sioux  and  Cheyennes  of  the  plains,  1875-1878;  subdues 
them  and  thereafter  devotes  his  available  time  to  hunting  and 
exploration. 

In  1882  is  reassigned  to  the  Department  of  Arizona,  where  the 
Apaches  are  unruly  again. 

Fails  to  succeed  in  holding  Geronimo,  the  Apache  war  leader ;  is 
relieved  at  his  own  request,  April,  1886,  and  reassigned  to  the 
command  of  the  Department  of  the  Platte. 

Appointed  major-general,  April,  1888,  and  assigned  to  the  com- 
mand of  the  Military  Division  of  the  Missouri,  with  head- 
quarters in  Chicago. 

Dies  March  21,  1890,  in  his  sixty-second  year,  at  Chicago.  In- 
terred with  high  honors  at  Oakland,  Maryland,  pending  the 
transfer  of  the  remains,  soon  thereafter,  to  the  National 
Cemetery  at  Arlington,  Virginia. 


MAJOR-GEN.  OLIVER  OTIS  HOWARD 

A  man  distinguished  for  his  deep  religious  spirit  and  his  benev- 
olence, as  well  for  his  bravery  upon  the  field  of  battle 
and  his  friendship  with  the  Indians. 

Born  at  Leeds,  Maine,  November  8,   1830. 

Graduates  at  Bowdoin  College,  Maine,  1850. 

Graduates  at  West  Point  Military  Academy,  1854,  No.  4  in  his 
class.  Assigned  as  second  lieutenant  of  ordnance  at  Water- 
vliet  Arsenal. 

Assigned  to  command  of  the  Kennebec  Arsenal,  1855. 

In  1856  transferred  to  Watervliet  again, 

December,  1856,  ordered  to  the  Seminole  Indian  campaign  in 
Florida. 

First  lieutenant  and  chief  of  ordnance,  Department  of  Florida, 
1857. 

Assistant  professor  of  mathematics  at  West  Point,   1857-1861. 

Expected  to  resign  from  the  army  to  enter  the  ministry,  but  in 
June,  1861,  accepts  the  colonelcy  of  the  Third  Maine  Volunteer 
Infantry. 

Commands  a  brigade  at  the  battle  of  Bull  Run. 

Brigadier-general  of  Volunteers,  September,  1861. 

Loses  his  right  arm,  from  two  wounds,  at  the  battle  of  Fair  Oaks, 
Virginia,  June,  1862. 

Major-general  of  Volunteers,  November,  1862. 

Commands  an  army  division  at  the  battles  of  Antietam  and 
Fredericksburg. 

Commands  an  army  corps  at  the  battles  of  Chancellorsville, 
Gettysburg,  Lookout  Mountain,  Missionary  Ridge,  Chat- 
tanooga, and  elsewhere,  and  has  the  right  wing  in  Sherman's 
march  to  the  sea. 

Thanked  by  Congress,  January,  1864,  for  services  at  Gettysburg. 

Brigadier-general  in  the  regular  army,  December,  1864. 

Brevetted  major-general  in  the  regular  army,  March,  1865,  for 
gallantry. 

Chief  of  the  Freedman's  Bureau,  at  Washington,  for  the  educa- 
tion and  care  of  the  negroes  and  refugees,  1865-1874. 

Sent  by  President  Grant  to  New  Mexico  and  Arizona,  as  special 
peace   commissioner   to   treat  with   the   Indians,   1872,  and 
wins  the  trust  and  love  of  the  various  tribes. 
15 


MAJOR-GENERAL  OLIVER  OTIS  HOWARD 

Assigned  to  the  command  of  the  Department  of  the  Columbia, 
August,  1874. 

Campaigns  against  the  Nez  Perces  of  Chief  Joseph,  1877. 

Campaigns  against  the  Bannocks  and  Pai-Utes,   1878. 

Superintendent  of  West  Point  Military  Academy,  1880-1882. 

Commands  the  Department  of  the  Platte,  1882-1886. 

Major-general,  March,  1886,  and  appointed  to  the  command  of  the 
Division  of  the  Pacific. 

Awarded  medal  of  honor,  by  Congress,  March,  1893,  for  distin- 
guished bravery  in  the  battle  of  Fair  Oaks,  where  he  lost  his 
arm. 

As  commander  of  the  Department  of  the  East  is  retired,  Novem- 
ber, 1894. 

Devotes  his  energies  to  religious  and  philanthropic  work,  and  dies 
at  Burlington,  Vermont,  October  26,  1909,  aged  seventy-nine. 


THE  APACHE  INDIANS 

A  large  collection  of  Indian  tribes  inhabiting  the  Southwest. 
They  first  are  mentioned  in  1598  by  the  early  Spanish  ex- 
plorers in  New  Mexico. 

The  name  "  Apache  "  is  derived  from  the  Zuni  word  "  Apachu," 
meaning  "enemy."  Their  own  name  was  "Tinde  (Tinneh)" 
and  "Dine  (Dinde),"  meaning  "men"  or  "the  people." 

They  always  were  bitter  enemies  to  the  Spanish  and  Mexicans, 
who  offered  high  rewards  in  money  for  Apache  scalps,  and 
enslaved  captives.  They  were  not  openly  hostile  to  the 
Americans  until,  in  1857,  a  Mexican  teamster  employed  by 
the  United  States  party  surveying  the  Mexican  boundary 
line  shot  an  Apache  warrior  without  just  cause.  The  survey 
commissioner  offered  thirty  dollars  in  payment,  which  was 
refused,  and  the  Apaches  declared  war. 

In  1861  Cochise,  chief  of  the  Chiricahuas,  who  had  been  friendly, 
was  confined,  on  a  false  charge,  by  Lieutenant  Bascom  of 
the  army,  at  the  army  camp  at  Apache  Pass,  Arizona.  He 
cut  his  way  to  freedom.  His  brother  and  five  others  were 
hanged  by  the  Americans.  Cochise  hanged  a  white  man,  in 
return,  declared  war,  and  almost  captured  the  stage  station 
where  the  troops  were  fortified. 

Beginning  with  the  Civil  War,  the  Apaches  ravaged  all  southern 
Arizona  and  the  stage  line  in  New  Mexico  also.  Terrible 
tortures  were  committed  upon  settlers  and  travelers. 

In  1863  Mangas  Coloradas  (Red  Sleeves),  an  old  Mimbrefio 
chief  related  by  marriage  to  Cochise,  was  treacherously  im- 
prisoned and  killed  by  soldiers,  at  Fort  McLane,  New  Mexico. 

Thenceforth  the  Apaches  and  whites  in  Arizona  had  little  common 
ground  except  that  of  "no  quarter."  There  was  constant 
fighting. 

In  March,  1871,  a  number  of  Arivaipa  Apaches  gathered  peace- 
fully under  the  protection  of  Camp  Grant  are  killed,  cap- 
tured or  put  to  flight  by  a  vengeful  party  of  Americans, 
Mexicans  and  Papago  Indians  from  Tucson. 

In  the  fall  of  1871  the  Government  peace  commission  tries  to 
adjust  the  differences  between  the  white  people  and  the 
red.  The  Apaches  are  offered  reservations  and  guaranteed 
kind  treatment.  They  have  little  faith  in  the  words. 

The  Apaches,  with  the  exception  of  the  White  Mountain  in 
Arizona  and  the  Warm  Spring  in  New  Mexico,  and  some 
2  17 


THE  APACHE  INDIANS 

smaller  banfls,  decline  to  gather  upon  reservations.  In  1872 
General  O.  O.  Howard  arrives  as  special  peace  commissioner, 
and  by  his  talks  and  actions  wins  the  trust  of  the  Indians. 
The  reservation  idea  seems  a  success.  Cochise  and  his 
Chiricahuas  agree  to  remain  in  their  own  country  of  the 
Dragoon  Mountains,  southern  Arizona. 

In  the  winter  of  1872-73  General  George  Crook  proceeds  against 
the  outlaw  Apaches  of  Arizona,  especially  the  Tontos  and 
the  Apache-Mohaves  or  Yavapais.  His  cavalry,  infantry, 
pack-trains  and  enlisted  Indian  scouts  trail  them  down  and 
subdue  them. 

General  Crook's  plans  to  make  the  Indians  self-supporting  on 
their  reservations  appear  to  have  brought  peace  to  Arizona. 

In  1874  the  control  of  the  reservations  passes  from  the  War 
Department  to  the  Indian  Bureau.  Reservations  given  to  the 
Indians  "forever,"  by  the  President,  are  reduced  or  abolished, 
and  various  tribes  are  removed  against  their  protests.  Agents 
prove  dishonest,  the  Indians  are  not  encouraged  to  work, 
and  are  robbed  of  their  rations. 

The  Chiricahuas  are  generally  peaceful,  although  Mexico  com- 
plains that  stock  is  being  stolen  and  run  across  the  border 
into  the  reservation.  Chief  Cochise,  who  has  kept  his  word 
with  General  Howard,  dies  in  1874.  Taza  his  son  succeeds 
him,  as  leader  of  the  Chiricahua  peace  party,  until  his  death 
in  1876. 

In  April,  1876,  whiskey  is  sold  to  some  Chiricahuas,  at  a  stage 
station  on  the  reservation.  A  fight  ensues,  and  killings 
occur.  The  great  majority  of  the  Chiricahuas  refuse  to  join 
in  any  outbreak. 

In  June,  1876,  it  is  recommended  by  the  governor  of  Arizona 
that  all  the  Chiricahuas  be  removed  to  the  San  Carlos  reser- 
vation. They  do  not  wish  to  go,  but  the  majority  follow  Taza 
there.  Chiefs  Juh,  Geronimo,  and  others  escape. 

The  policy  of  the  Indian  Bureau  contemplates  putting  all  the 
Apaches  together  upon  the  San  Carlos  reservation.  The 
White  Mountain  Apaches,  who  have  voluntarily  lived  upon 
the  White  Mountain  reservation,  their  home  land,  adjacent, 
and  have  supplied  the  government  with  scouts,  decline  to 
go  to  the  low  country.  When  forced,  they  drift  back  again, 
and  finally  are  allowed  to  stay. 

In  1877  the  Warm  Spring  Apaches  and  the  Geronimo  Chiricahuas 
who  had  taken  refuge  there  are  ordered  from  the  Warm 
Spring  reservation  in  New  Mexico  to  San  Carlos.  Some 
escape ;  the  remainder  escape  a  little  later.  Thereafter,  Chief 
Victorio  and  his  Warm  Springs  are  constantly  on  the  war- 
path, out  of  Mexico, 

18 


THE  APACHE  INDIANS 

In  January,  1880,  Chiefs  Juh  and  Geronimo  of  the  Chiricahuas 
agree  to  stay  upon  the  San  Carlos  reservation.  In  August 
Victorio  is  killed  by  Mexican  troops. 

In  September,  1881,  Juh  and  Nah-che  (a  son  of  Cochise  and  a 
lieutenant  of  Geronimo),  break  from  the  reservation,  for 
Mexico. 

In  April,   1882,  Geronimo  and  Loco  of  the  Chiricahuas  follow. 

General  Crook  is  now  recalled  to  the  command  in  Arizona.  He 
talks  with  the  Apaches  on  the  reservations,  finds  a  marked 
state  of  mistrust  and  misunderstanding,  and  places  his  troops 
to  guard  the  border  against  the  outlaws. 

In  March,  1883,  Chato,  or  Flat-nose,  a  young  captain  of  Geroni- 
mo's  band,  with  twenty-six  men  breaks  through,  raids  up 
into  New  Mexico  and  Arizona,  and  murders  settlers.  With 
forty  cavalry,  about  two  hundred  Apache  scouts,  and  pack- 
trains,  Crook  overhauls  the  Chiricahuas  in  the  wild  Sierra 
Madre  Mountains  of  Mexico  two  hundred  miles  south  of  the 
boundary,  and  persuades  the  whole  band  to  return  peaceably 
to  the  reservation. 

The  Chiricahuas  are  placed  under  the  control  of  General  Crook, 
and  he  locates  them  upon  good  land  on  the  White  Mountain 
reservation.  Both  reservations  are  policed  by  the  army. 
The  Apaches  seem  to  be  content,  under  the  Crook  plan  that 
they  shall  work  for  an  independent  living.  In  1884  they  raise 
over  four  thousand  tons  of  produce.  There  have  been  no 
outbreaks. 

In  February,  1885,  disagreements  arise  between  the  War  Depart- 
ment and  the  Interior  Department,  of  which  the  Indian  Bu- 
reau is  a  function.  General  Crook's  powers  are  interfered 
with  by  civil  interests  at  Washington  and  in  Arizona, 
liquor  is  being  permitted  upon  the  reservations  and  the 
Indians  grow  uneasy. 

In  May,  1885,  after  a  controversy  with  the  agent  over  the  right 
to  dig  an  irrigating  ditch,  and  having  obtained  a  supply  of 
liquor,  one  hundred  and  twenty-four  men,  women  and  children 
under  Geronimo  and  Nah-che,  his  lieutenant,  escape  again  into- 
Mexico.  During  their  raids  they  kill  seventy-three  whites  and 
a  number  of  Apache  scouts. 

General  Crook  secures  an  international  agreement  that  United 
States  troops  may  operate  in  Mexico,  and  Mexican  troops 
in  the  United  States,  and  sends  a  column  on  the  trail  of 
Geronimo. 

In  March,  1886,  Geronimo  signifies  that  he  desires  to  talk.    The 
general  meets  him,  Chihuahua  and  other  chiefs,  and  they  ac- 
cept the  terms  of  two  years'  imprisonment,  with  the  privilege 
of  the  company  of  their  families. 
19 


THE  APACHE  INDIANS 

On  the  march  north  a  vicious  white  man  by  the  name  of  Tribollet 
supplies  whiskey  to  the  Chiricahuas,  at  ten  dollars  (silver) 
a  gallon,  alarms  them  with  lies  by  himself  and  his  unscrupu- 
lous associates.  Geronimo  and  Nah-che,  with  twenty  men, 
thirteen  women  and  two  children,  disappear.  Chihuahua  and 
eighty  others  remain. 

The  general's  action  in  making  terms  with  the  Chiricahuas,  and 
in  not  so  guarding  them  that  they  would  be  forced  to  remain, 
is  indirectly  censured  by  General  Sheridan,  commanding  the 
army.  Crook  explains  that  no  other  methods  on  his  part 
would  have  met  with  any  success,  under  the  circumstances, 
and  asks  to  be  relieved  from  the  command  of  the  department. 

In  April,  1886,  General  Nelson  A.  Miles  takes  the  command  in 
Arizona.  He  increases  the  number  of  heliostat  signal  sta- 
tions, discharges  the  reservation- Apache  scouts  (whom  he 
suspects  of  treachery),  employs  a  few  trailers  from  other 
tribes,  and  by  a  very  energetic  campaign  which  permits 
Geronimo  no  rest,  in  September  induces  his  surrender  upon 
only  the  conditions  that  his  life  shall  be  spared  and  that 
he  shall  be  removed  from  Arizona. 

Without  delay  the  Geronimo  and  Nah-che  remnant  of  hostiles, 
and  all  the  Chiricahua  and  Warm  Spring  Apaches,  four 
hundred  in  number,  at  the  Fort  Apache  (White  Mountain) 
reservation,  are  removed,  whether  friendly  or  not,  to  Florida. 
This  is  deemed  the  only  practicable  measure  of  freeing  the 
Southwest  from  the  menace  of  Apache  outbreaks.  The 
expenses  of  the  Department  of  Arizona  are  lessened  by 
$1,000,000  a  year. 

The  climate  of  Florida  is  unfavorable  to  the  Apaches.  Geronimo 
complains  that  he  and  Nah-che  had  understood  that  their 
families  were  to  accompany  them.  Many  of  the  Apaches 
die  from  disease  and  homesickness. 

In  May,  1888,  the  Apaches  are  removed  from  Florida  to  Mt 
Vernon  barracks,  Alabama;  and  in  October,  1894,  as  pris- 
oners of  war  to  Fort  Sill  Military  Reservation,  Indian 
Territory  (now  Oklahoma). 

The  principal  reservations  of  the  Arizona  Apaches  are  the  Fort 
Apache  and  the  San  Carlos,  each  containing  between  two 
and  three  thousand  Indians.  There  are  still  over  two  hun- 
dred of  the  Chiricahuas  and  Warm  Springs  at  Fort  Sill, 
Oklahoma.  Geronimo  died  February  17,  1909,  at  Fort  Sill. 
Nah-che  succeeded  him  as  chief. 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND 
THE  FIGHTING  APACHES 


JIMMIE  DUNN  IS  BADLY  FOOLED 

"  TINKLE,  tinkle,"  placidly  sounded  the  bell  of  the 
old  bell-wether,  to  prove  that  he  and  the  other  sheep 
were  grazing  near  at  hand  in  the  stiff  brush. 

"  All  right,"  thought  Jimmie  Dunn,  whose  business 
it  was  to  keep  tab  on  the  whereabouts  of  that  bell. 

For  this  was  a  simmering  hot  summer  afternoon 
of  the  year  1870,  far,  far  down  in  southern  Arizona 
Territory ;  and  here  on  a  hill-slope  of  the  Pete  Kitchen 
big  ranch  about  half-way  between  Tucson  town  and 
the  Mexican  line  Jimmie  was  lying  upon  his  back  under 
a  spreading  crooked-branched  mesquite  tree,  lazily 
herding  the  ranch  sheep. 

The  Kitchen  ranch  really  was  not  Jimmie's  home. 
He  lived  with  his  uncle  Joe  Felmer  (not  really  his 
uncle,  either),  who  was  the  blacksmith  for  Camp 
Grant,  the  United  States  army  post  ninety  miles  north- 
ward, or  fifty-five  miles  the  other  side  of  Tucson. 

But  the  region  close  around  Camp  Grant  was  a 
sandy  pocket  famous  for  fever  and  ague  as  well  as 
for  other  disagreeable  features,  such  as  scorpions,  taran- 
tulas, ugly  Gila  monsters  (thick,  black,  poisonous  liz- 
ards), heat  and  sand-storms;  so  that  Joe  had  sent 

ft! 


GENEKAt  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

Jimmie  down  L  to  their v  friend  Pete  Kitchen,  on  a 
vacation. 

Everybody,  American,  Mexican  and  Indian,  in 
southern  Arizona,  knew  the  Pete  Kitchen  ranch.  It 
was  noted  for  its  battles  with  the  Apaches  who,  passing 
back  and  forth  on  their  raids  out  of  the  mountains  of 
Arizona  and  Mexico  both,  were  likely  to  plunder  and 
kill,  at  any  time.  Sturdy  Pete  had  not  been  driven 
away  yet,  and  did  not  propose  to  be  driven  away. 

Jimmie  himself  was  pretty  well  used  to  Apaches. 
They  prowled  about  Camp  Grant,  and  attacked  people 
on  the  road  from  Tucson,  and  frequently  the  soldiers 
rode  out  after  them.  Joe  Felmer  had  married  an 
Apache  woman,  who  was  now  dead ;  he  spoke  Apache 
and  Jimmie  had  picked  up  a  number  of  the  words ;  but 
there  were  plenty  of  unfriendly  Apaches  who  every 
little  while  ran  off  with  Joe's  mules  or  filled  his  hogs 
with  arrows. 

On  his  back  tinder  the  mesquite  tree  Jimmie  was 
not  thinking  of  Apaches.  He  was  idly  surveying  the 
country — at  the  same  time  having  an  ear  open  to  the 
musical  tinkle  of  the  bell-wether,  who  told  him  where 
the  sheep  were  straying.  And  a  delightful,  dreamy 
outlook  this  was,  over  all  those  quiet  miles  of  mountain 
and  desert  Arizona  which  only  the  Southern  stage-line 
traversed,  and  which,  so  thinly  settled  by  white  people, 
the  roving  Apache  Indians  claimed  as  their  own. 

In  his  loose  cotton  shirt  and  ragged  cotton  trousers 
Jimmie  felt  very  comfortable.  Presently  his  eyes 
closed,  his  head  drooped,  and  he  nodded  off,  for  forty 
or  so  winks. 

22 


JIMMIE  DUNN  IS  BADLY  FOOLED 

He  dozed,  he  was  certain,  not  more  than  five  min- 
utes; or  perhaps  ten.  Then  he  awakened  with  a  sud- 
den start.  Something  had  told  him  to  awaken.  He 
sat  up  and  looked  to  see  that  the  sheep  were  all  right. 
He  could  not  see  one  animal,  but  he  heard  the  tinkle, 
tinkle.  He  twisted  about  to  find  the  old  bell-wether — 
and  he  gazed  full  into  the  grinning  face  of  an  Apache 
boy! 

The  Apache  boy,  who  appeared  to  be  fourteen  or 
fifteen  years  old,  was  not  more  than  five  yards  from 
him — standing  there  beside  a  giant  cactus,  naked  ex- 
cept for  a  red  cloth  band  about  his  forehead,  and  a 
whitish  cotton  girdle  about  his  middle,  with  the  broad 
ends  hanging  down  before  and  behind,  and  regular 
Apache  moccasins  reaching  like  leggins  half  way  up 
his  thighs  for  protection  against  the  brush:  standing 
there,  grinning,  in  his  left  hand  a  bow,  in  his  right 
the  wether's  bell! 

He  had  been  tinkling  that  bell!  And  a  smart  trick 
this  was,  too:  to  sneak  up  on  the  wether,  get  the  bell, 
and  ring  it  to  fool  the  herder  while  other  Apaches  drove 
away  the  sheep! 

For  an  instant  Jimmie  stared  perfectly  paralyzed 
with  astonishment.  He  could  not  believe  his  eyes. 
Instead  of  a  staid  old  tame  sheep,  here  was  a  mischiev- 
ous young  wild  Apache !  Then,  trying  to  utter  a  shout, 
up  he  sprang,  to  run.  On  the  moment  he  heard  a 
sharp  swish,  the  noose  of  an  Apache's  rawhide  rope 
whipped  about  his  shoulders,  and  right  in  mid-step  he 
was  jerked  backward  so  violently,  heacl  over  heels, 
that  he  had  no  time  or  breath  for  yelling  a  word. 

23 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

Barely  had  he  landed  topsy  turvy  in  the  brush  when 
a  heavy  body  rushed  for  him,  a  supple  dark  hand  was 
clapped  firmly  over  his  mouth,  and  hauled  upright  he 
was  half  dragged,  half  carried,  through  the  mesquites 
and  the  cactuses  and  around  the  slope  of  the  hill. 

Now  he  was  flung,  limp  and  dazed,  aboard  a  pony, 
his  captor  mounted  into  the  saddle  behind  him,  and 
away  they  tore,  while  the  brush  beneath  reeled  by  under 
Jknmie's  swimming  eyes. 

This  was  a  fast  ride  until  the  sheep  were  over- 
taken. There  they  were,  almost  the  whole  flock,  being 
forced  hotly  onward  by  Apaches  afoot  and  ahorse, 
with  other  Apaches  guarding  the  flanks.  It  looked  like 
a  war  party  returning  with  plunder  from  Mexico.  The 
bands  about  the  foreheads,  the  round  rawhide  helmets 
that  some  wore,  the  thigh  moccasins,  the  guns,  bows, 
lances  and  clubs,  proved  that  they  were  a  war  party; 
and  they  had  a  lot  of  loose  horses  and  mules  besides 
the  Pete  Kitchen  sheep. 

Jimmie  sighted  another  captive — a  Mexican  boy, 
older  than  he,  fastened  upon  a  yellow  mule  led  by  an 
Apache  horseman. 

A  broad-shouldered,  finely  built  Indian  wearing  an 
Apache  helmet  with  feathers  sticking  up  from  it,  and 
riding  a  white  horse,  evidently  was  the  chief  in 
command. 

The  grip  of  the  Apache  who  held  Jimmie  had 
slackened.  Jimmie  managed  to  squirm  'round  enough 
to  look  up  into  the  Apache's  face.  In  return  he  got  a 
grin,  and  two  or  three  Apache  words  that  said :  "  Good 
boy.  No  fear/'  These  were  common  words  with 

24 


JIMMIE  DUNN  IS  BADLY  FOOLED 

the  "  tame  "  Apaches  who  sometimes  came  into  Camp 
Grant  or  to  Joe  Felmer's  little  ranch  near  by,  so  Jimmie 
understood. 

The  country  grew  rougher  and  wilder  and  higher. 
By  the  sun  Jimmie  knew  that  the  course  was  generally 
eastward,  and  he  guessed  that  these  were  Chiricahua 
Apaches. 

The  Apache  Indians,  as  almost  anybody  in  Arizona 
could  say  off-hand,  were  divided  into  the  Chiricahuas 
and  the  Finals  and  the  Arivaipas  and  the  Coyotes  and 
the  White  Mountains  and  the  Apache-Mohaves  and  the 
Apache- Yumas  and  the  Tontos  and  the  Mogollons,  and 
the  Warm  Spring  Apaches  and  the  Mimbres  (of  New 
Mexico),  and  the  Jicarillas  ( Heek-ah-ree-yahs)  or 
Basket  Apaches,  who  never  came  into  Arizona ;  and  so 
forth. 

The  Tontos  and  Finals,  who  were  outlaws,  and  the 
Chiricahuas  (Chee-ree-cah-wahs),  who  were  hard, 
thorough  fighters,  seemed  to  give  the  most  trouble. 
The  Chiricahuas  lived  in  the  mountains  of  southern 
Arizona  and  of  northern  Mexico. 

The  pines  and  cedars  of  the  higher  country  were 
reached  before  dusk.  Not  a  tenth  of  the  sheep  had 
come  this  far.  The  most  of  them  had  been  left  to  die 
from  heat  and  exhaustion.  Now  having  passed 
through  another  of  their  favorite  narrow  canyons,  the 
Apaches  halted,  at  dark,  to  camp  beside  a  trickle  of 
water  in  a  rocky  little  basin  surrounded  by  crags  and 
timber. 

This  night  Jimmie  was  forced  to  lie  between  two 
Apache  warriors,  the  one  who  had  captured  him,  and 
a  comrade;  and  he  fitted  so  closely  that  if  he  moved 

25 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

he  would  waken  them.  It  was  an  uncomfortable  bed, 
there  under  a  thin  dirty  strip  of  blanket,  limited  by 
those  greasy,  warm  bodies,  and  he  was  afraid  to  stir. 
But  he  was  so  tired  that  he  slept,  anyway. 

Very  early  in  the  morning  the  camp  roused  again. 
Apaches  when  on  a  raid  or  when  pursued  were  sup- 
posed to  travel  on  only  one  meal  a  day  and  with  only 
three  hours'  rest  out  of  the  twenty-four.  So  now 
on  and  on  and  on,  through  all  kinds  of  rough  country 
they  hastened,  at  steady  gait  and  speaking  rarely — - 
Jimmie  riding  a  bareback  horse. 

In  late  afternoon  they  halted  on  the  rim  of  a  valley 
so  deep  and  wide  that  it  was  veiled  in  bluish-purple 
haze.  On  a  rocky  point  three  of  the  Apaches  started 
a  fire  of  dried  grass,  and  sent  up  a  smoke  signal  by 
heaping  pitchy  pine  cones  upon  the  blaze. 

Chewing  twigs  and  sucking  pebbles  to  keep  their 
mouths  wet,  the  Apaches,  talking  together  and  watch- 
ing, waited,  until  a  long  distance  across  the  valley, 
whose  brushy  sides  were  thickly  grown  with  the  mescal, 
or  century  plant  cactuses,  blooming  in  round  stalks 
twenty  feet  tall,  a  smoke  column  answered. 

The  Apaches  tending  to  their  own  fire  fed  more 
pine  cones  to  it,  and  two  of  them  rapidly  clapped  a 
saddle-blanket  on  and  off  the  smoke,  and  broke  it  into 
puffs.  The  smoke  column  across  the  valley  puffed  in 
reply. 

The  Apache  boy  who  had  played  bell-wether  pressed 
to  Jimmie's  horse. 

"  Chi-cowah,"  he  said,  pointing.  That  was  Apache 
for  "  My  home." 

26 


JIMMIE  DUNN  IS  BADLY  FOOLED 

ISTow  the  party  appeared  satisfied.  They  scattered 
their  fire,  and  struck  down  into  a  narrow  trail  that 
crossed  the  bottom  of  the  valley.  A  peculiar  sweetish 
smell  hung  in  the  misted  air.  This,  Jimmie  guessed, 
was  from  the  steaming  pits  wherein  the  hearts  of  the 
mescal,  or  century  plants,  were  being  roasted. 

They  glimpsed  several  squaws  and  children  gather- 
ing foodstuff  in  the  brush.  As  they  filed  through  a 
little  draw  or  rocky  pass  they  were  hailed  loudly  by 
an  Apache  sentinel  posted  above.  He  could  not  be 
seen,  but  the  chief  replied.  The  pass  opened  into  a 
grassy  flat  concealed  by  the  usual  high  crags  and  tim- 
bered ridges.  Here  was  the  Apache  camp  or  rancheria 
(ran-cher-ee-ah),  located  along  a  willow-bordered 
creek. 

Fifty  or  sixty  of  the  Apache  brush  huts  or  jacals 
were  sprinkled  all  tip  and  down  the  flat,  and  as  soon 
as  the  party  entered,  a  tremendous  chorus  of  welcome 
sounded.  Women  shrieked,  children  screamed,  dogs 
barked  and  mules  brayed.  Right  into  the  center  of  the 
camp  marched  the  party,  and  stopped. 

A  circle  of  staring  women  and  children,  and  a  few 
men,  surrounded.  Other  squaws  bustled  to  take  the 
horses  and  mules  from  the  dismounting  warriors. 
Jimmie  was  told  to  get  off.  Feeling  lonesome  and 
miserable,  he  saw  close  in  front  of  him  a  boy  who  did 
not  seem  to  be  Indian  at  all,  for  he  had  fiery  red 
hair  and  brick-red  freckles  and  only  one  eye,  which 
was  blue ! 

Yes — a  red-headed,  one-eyed,  blue-eyed  boy,  rather 
runty,  in  only  a  whitish  cotton  girdle,  and  moccasins. 

27 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

Evidently  he  dressed  that  way — or  undressed  that  way 
< — all  the  time,  for  his  body  and  limbs  were  burned 
darker  than  his  face. 

Jimmie  was  not  granted  much  space  for  staring 
back  into  that  one  blue  eye.  He  was  slapped  upon  the 
shoulder,  "  Aqui  (Here)  !  "  grunted  the  chief,  in  Span- 
ish, and  strode  on  through  the  circle.  So  Jimmie  fol- 
lowed, hobbling  at  best  speed. 

The  chief  went  straight  to  a  scrub-oak  tree,  with  a 
hut  beneath  it,  and  an  Apache  sitting  in  the  shade  of 
it,  on  a  deer  hide  before  the  hut.  By  the  manner  with 
which  Jimmie's  Apache  spoke  to  the  sitting  Apache, 
who  did  not  rise,  it  was  plain  to  be  seen  that  the  sitting 
Apache  was  the  principal  chief,  and  that  Jimmie's 
Apache  was  maybe  only  a  captain. 

They  talked  for  a  moment  in  Apache,  too  fast  for 
Jimmie  to  understand.  Then  the  sitting  chief,  who 
had  been  eying  Jimmie  sharply,  addressed  him  in  sim- 
ple Mexican-Spanish  easy  to  catch. 

He  was  not  at  all  a  bad-looking  Apache.  In  fact, 
he  was  about  the  finest  Apache  that  Jimmie  had  ever 
met :  a  broad-chested  six-footer,  like  the  captain  chief, 
but  large  eyed  and  kindly  faced  and  dignified. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  James  Dunn." 

"NoMexicano?" 

"  Americano,"  corrected  Jimmie  proudly. 

"Your  father  Pete  Keetchen?" 

"  No." 

"Where  you  live?" 

"  Camp  Grant." 


.  JIMMIE  DUNN  IS  BADLY  FOOLED 

"With  soldiers?" 

Jimmie  reflected  an  instant.  If  he  said  "  With  Joe 
Felmer,"  then  the  chief  would  surely  hold  him  as  a 
great  prize,  for  Joe  Felmer,  Government  scout  as  well 
as  post  blacksmith,  was  an  important  enemy.  So 

"  Sometimes,"  asserted  Jimmie,  which  was  true. 

"  Why  on  Keetchen  rancho?  " 

"  Tend  to  sheep."  And  Jimmie  blushed  when  he 
recalled  that  he  had  been  a  great  sheep-herder ! 

"  Pete  Keetchen  your  father?  " 

"  No ! "  repeated  Jimmie.  "  No  father,  no 
mother." 

The  head  chief  and  the  captain  chief  gazed  at  him 
as  though  they  would  read  his  very  thoughts.  The 
captain  chief  had  such  piercing  dark  eyes  that  they 
bored  clear  through.  But  he  was  a  sure-enough  Apache, 
with  straight  black  hair  and  dark  chocolate  skin,  darker 
even  than  ordinary. 

'Twas  to  be  imagined  that  neither  of  the  chiefs  be- 
lieved Jimmie's  statements.  They  still  suspected  that 
he  belonged  to  Pete  Kitchen. 

The  head  chief  spoke  abruptly. 

"  You  Tache  now.     Ugashe  (U-gah-shay) — go!  " 

Jimmie  knew  that  he  was  dismissed,  and  he  turned 
away.  He  was  faint  in  the  stomach  and  weak  in  the 
knees,  and  he  had  no  place  in  particular  to  go,  until 
he  saw  the  Mexican  boy  captive  sitting  in  the  sun, 
with  his  feet  under  him  and  his  shanks  high.  Jimmie 
seized  upon  the  opportunity  to  talk  with  him,  at  last. 

"  What  is  your  name?  "  he  asked,  squatting  beside 
him.  All  Americans  in  southern  Arizona  could  speak 

29 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

some  Spanish;  Mexican-Spanish  was  as  common  as 
English. 

"  Maria  Jilda  Grijalba  (Maree-ah  Heel-dah  Gree- 
hal-bah)." 

"Where  did  you  live?" 

"In  Sonora"  (which  was  in  Mexico).  "Where 
did  you  live  ?  " 

"  Camp  Grant — American  fort,  Arizona." 

"How  far?" 

Jimmie  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Do  not  know." 

"  You  do  not  live  on  the  rancho?  " 

"  For  little  while." 

"  You  have  father,  mother?  " 

"  No.     Apaches  kill  them." 

"  My  father,  mother,  brothers,  sisters,  all  killed," 
lamented  Maria,  weeping.  "  Alas !  All  killed,  by 
Apaches." 

"  We  run  off,  pretty  soon  ?  "  proposed  Jimmie. 

"  No !  "  opposed  Maria,  in  much  alarm.  "  Must 
stay.  Be  Apaches.  They  not  let  us  run  off.  Big 
country.  Get  lost  and  die.  Get  caught  and  be  killed." 

But  Jimmie  had  made  up  his  mind  that  he  was  not 
going  to  be  an  Apache;  he  would  escape  if  he  could. 
Or  maybe  he  would  be  rescued. 

However,  here  came  the  captain  chief,  and  the  bell- 
wether Apache  boy,  and  the  strange  red-headed  boy 
with  the  one  blue  eye. 

"Ugashe!"  roughly  ordered  the  captain  chief, 
of  Maria.  Poor  Maria  obediently  arose  and  shuffled 
away. 

80 


JIMMIE  DUNN  IS  BADLY  FOOLED 

The  captain  spoke  to  Jimmie,  and  smiled.  He, 
also  was  a  fine-looking  Apache:  almost  six  feet  tall 
and  straight  and  sinewy,  with  square  face  and  thin, 
determined  lips,  and  those  extraordinary  sharp  eyes. 

Jimmie  stood  up. 

"  Chi-kis-n,"  said  the  captain,  and  nodded  aside  at 
the  bell-wether  boy. 

"  Chi-kis-n  "  was  Apache  for  "  my  brother."  The 
Apache  boy  grinned  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Chi-kis-n,"  he  glfceted. 

The  red-headed,  one-eyed  boy  explained  in  Spanish. 

"  Your  name  Boy-who-falls-asleep,  his  name  Nah- 
che.  But  you  must  call  him  chi-kis-n — my  brother." 

"  Muchos  gratias  (Many  thanks)/'  answered 
Jimmie,  shaking  hands  with  Nah-che.  Nah-che  was 
a  stocky,  round-faced  boy,  and  Jimmie  liked  him  in 
spite  of  that  trick  with  the  sheep  bell. 

"  The  chief's  name  is  Go-yath-lay,"  continued  the 
red-headed  boy.  "He  is  war-captain  of  the  Chiricahua. 
ISTah-che  is  son  of  Cochise,  head  chief." 

The  war  captain,  who  had  been  listening  intently, 
trying  to  understand  the  words,  nodded,  and  spoke 
again  in  Apache. 

"  Your  chi-kis-n  will  show  you,"  translated  the  red- 
headed boy,  who  knew  Spanish  and  Apache  both. 

"Aqui  (Here),"  bade  Nah-che:  and  Jimmie  fol- 
lowed him  to  one  of  those  regulation  Apache  jacals — a 
low  round-topped  hut  made  from  willow  branches  stuck 
in  a  circle  and  bent  over  to  fasten  together,  with  pieces 
of  deer  hide  and  cow  hide  laid  to  cover  the  frame- 
work of  the  sides,  and  flat  bundles  of  brush  to  thatch 

31 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

the  roof.  The  jacals  resembled  dirty  white  bowls 
bottom-up.  Each  had  a  little  opening,  as  a  door  to  be 
entered  only  by  stooping  half  double. 

Before  the  hut  an  Apache  woman  in  a  loose  cotton 
waist  worn  outside  a  draggled  calico  skirt  was  busy 
cooking.  She  stirred  the  contents  of  an  iron  kettle,  set 
upon  a  bed  of  coals  in  a  small  shallow  pit.  She  threw 
back  her  long,  coarse  black  hair  and  scanned  Jimmie 
curiously  while  Nah-che  spoke  a  few  words  to  her. 

Then  repeating  the  title  uchi-kis-n"  Nah-che  strolled 
away.  The  woman  smiled  broadly  at  Jimmie,  took 
him  by  the  arm,  and  talking  to  him  led  him  inside  the 
hut.  The  earth  had  been  dug  out,  there,  so  that  they 
might  stand,  in  the  middle,  and  not  strike  their  heads 
on  the  ceiling. 

The  woman  made  Jimmie  remove  his  trousers  and 
shoes ;  and  leaving  him  his  ragged  shirt  tossed  to  him 
a  pair  of  old  moccasins. 

Again  out-doors,  she  gave  him  a  mess  of  the  stew, 
in  a  gourd  bowl.  The  stew  was  corn  and  beans  cooked 
together,  and  was  very  good  indeed,  to  a  hungry  boy. 

"  Go,"  she  signed.     "  Come  back  at  night." 

Here  in  the  open,  Jimmie  felt  rather  odd,  with  noth- 
ing on  but  his  shirt  and  moccasins.  Still,  most  of  the 
boys  and  girls  of  his  age,  in  the  village,  had  even  less  on. 
They  were  brown,  though,  and  he  was  white,  which 
seemed  to  make  a  difference. 

Some  of  the  boys  were  playing  at  what  appeared 
to  be  hide-and-seek  amidst  the  brush  and  trees  and 
rocks;  others  were  shooting  with  bows  and  arrows. 
The  little  girls  had  dolls,  of  rags,  and  stuffed,  painted 

82 


JIMMIE  DUNN  IS  BADLY  FOOLED 

buckskin.  They  all  viewed  him  out  of  their  sparkling 
black  eyes,  and  the  girls  giggled  the  same  as  white  girls. 

Jimmie' s  squaw  shoved  him  from  behind. 

"  U-ga-she !  "  she  ordered.     "  Go ! " 

After  all,  thought  Jimmie,  if  he  had  to  live  here 
for  a  while,  he  might  better  pretend  to  enjoy  himself, 
until  he  got  a  good  chance  to  escape.  So  he  boldly 
joined  in  the  game  of  hide-and-seek.  At  first  every- 
body there  let  him  alone.  But  he  chased  around,  with 
the  others,  his  shirt  flapping,  and  soon  he  was  one  of 
the  "  gang  "  and  was  being  shouted  at  in  Apache. 

The  one-eyed  boy  and  Nah-che  and  several  others 
of  that  age  stayed  by  themselves,  playing  a  game  with 
raw-hide  cards,  and  talking.  They  were  too  old  for 
foolishness. 

This  night  Jimmie  slept  in  the  squaw's  hut.  There 
was  a  feast  and  dance,  judging  by  the  noise  that  he 
heard  when  awake.  Nah-che  came  in  late.  In  the 
morning  the  red-headed  boy  went  away  on  foot  with 
three  Apaches  who  evidently  had  been  visitors  at  the 
village;  and  as  he  did  not  return  during  the  day,  he 
probably  belonged  somewhere  else,  himself. 


n 

JIMMIE  LEARNS  TO  BE  APACHE 

THESE  were  the  principal  band  of  the  Cho-kon-en 
Apaches  who  were  called  Chiricahua  ("  Great  Moun- 
tain ")  Apaches  because  of  the  Chiricahua  Mountains 
amidst  which  they  lived.  But  Cho-kon-en  was  their 
own  name. 

The  pleasant-faced  Cochise  was  the  head  chief. 
He  was  about  fifty-five  years  old.  The  captain  Go- 
yath-lay  or  "  One-who-ya.wns  "  was  the  war  chief. 
He  was  forty  years  old.  The  Mexicans  whom  he 
had  fought  had  given  him  the  name  Geronimo  (Her- 
on-i-mo),  which  is  Spanish  for  Jerome. 

There  were  other  bands  of  Chiricahuas,  under  other 
chiefs — Na-na  and  Chihuahua  (Chi-wah-wah)  and 
Loco,  and  so  forth.  Na-na  was  the  oldest  of  all;  he 
was  nearly  eighty,  and  had  been  wounded  many  times 
in  battle — yes,  as  many  as  fifteen  times.  Chihuahua 
was  stout  and  good-natured.  Loco  was  thin  and  quite 
bow-legged. 

In  the  Sierra  Madre  Mountains  of  Mexico,  which 
were  the  south  end  of  the  Chiricahua  Range,  were  the 
Nedni  Apaches,  under  old  Chief  Juh,  or  "  Whoa." 
Chief  Cochise  and  Chief  Juh  frequently  went  to  war 
together  against  the  Mexicans. 

Northeastward,  or  in  western  New  Mexico  lived 
the  Chi-hen-ne — the  Ojo  Caliente  (Oho  Cal-i-en-te)  or 
Warm  Spring  Apaches,  under  Chief  Victorio.  With 
Chief  Victorio's  people  the  Cochise  people  had  long 
been  as  brothers. 

M 


JIMMIE  LEARNS  TO  BE  APACHE 

The  woman  who  had  charge  of  Jimmie  was  Nah- 
da-ste.  She  was  a  sister  of  Geronimo.  Her  husband 
had  been  killed  in  battle  with  the  Mexicans.  The 
warrior  who  had  captured  Jimmie  was  Geronimo's 
younger  brother  Porico,  or  "  White  Horse." 

Nah-che,  Jimmie's  chi-kis-n,  was  the  youngest  son 
of  Chief  Cochise.  Geronimo  the  war  chief  liked  him 
very  much.  His  name  meant  "  meddlesome,"  for  he 
had  been  a  mischievous  baby.  In  about  three  years,  or 
when  he  was  seventeen,  if  he  had  proved  himself 
worthy  in  the  hunt  and  on  the  long  trail,  he  would 
be  admitted  into  the  councils  as  a  warrior. 

The  same  with  another  boy,  Chato.  He  was  called 
Chato,  or  "  Flat-nose/'  because  he  had  been  kicked 
in  the  face  by  a  mule. 

Taza,  Nah-che's  elder  brother,  already  was  a  war- 
rior and  would  be  head  chief,  probably,  after  Cochise 
his  father  died.  But  that  was  not  certain ;  head  chiefs 
were  elected  and  not  born. 

As  for  the  red-headed,  one-eyed  blue-eyed  boy 

"  His  name  is  Red-head,"  said  Nah-che.  "  He  is 
not  one  of  us.  He  is  part  Mexican  and  part  American. 
He  was  captured  a  long  time  ago  by  some  of  our  men, 
but  he  lives  with  the  White  Mountains  now,  in  the 
north.  The  White  Mountains  are  at  peace,  on  their 
land  where  the  new  American  fort  is  being  built." 

Jimmie  rapidly  learned  Apache,  although  many  of 
the  Chiricahuas  spoke  Spanish.  He  soon  had  lost  his 
shirt,  and  went  about  with  only  a  rag  around  his  waist. 
Everybody  in  the  Cochise  camp  was  kind  to  him.  He 
was  an  Apache  boy,  now.  The  Apaches  never  whipped 

35 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

their  children,  nor  punished  them  in  any  way  except 
by  scolding. 

The  little  children  were  made  to  help  in  the  fields 
where  corn  and  squash  and  beans  and  melons  were 
raised;  and  went  with  their  mothers  to  gather  seeds 
and  berries  and  acorns  and  mescal — for  the  Apaches 
ate  curious  things. 

The  girls  played  with  dolls,  and  at  housekeeping 
and  tended  to  the  babies,  of  which  there  were  many. 
The  boys  of  nine  and  ten,  Jimmie's  age,  and  over, 
worked  some,  but  they  were  encouraged  to  use  the  bow 
and  arrow,  and  throw  the  lance,  and  practice  at  war 
and  at  the  hunt,  so  as  to  train  them  as  warriors  and 
to  strengthen  their  muscles. 

The  war  game  was  the  best  sport.  Some  of  the 
boys  pretended  to  be  Mexicans.  The  others  remained 
Apaches.  The  "  Mexicans  "  were  given  a  head-start, 
into  the  brush  and  timber,  and  the  "  Apaches  "  set 
out  to  find  their  trail  and  to  surprise  them. 

Although  the  "  Mexicans "  did  everything  they 
might  think  of,  to  conceal  their  tracks  and  to  get  away, 
they  always  were  discovered.  Then  by  running  and 
sneaking  and  crawling  flat  with  grass  and  cactus  tied 
to  their  heads  the  "  Apaches  "  proceeded  to  ambush  the 
"  Mexicans."  Then  the  "  Apaches  "  yelled  and  shot 
fast  with  light  arrows,  and  the  "  Mexicans "  were 
killed  or  captured. 

Turkeys  were  caught  by  running  after  them  up  hill 
and  down  until  they  'were  so  tired  that  they  could  not 
fly,  and  were  killed  by  a  blow  from  a  club  on  the  neck. 
Rabbits  were  chased,  too,  and  surrounded  by  a  circle 


JIMMIE  LEARNS  TO  BE  APACHE 

of  boys  armed  with  bows  and  clubs;  and  they,  too, 
were  killed. 

All  these  sports  made  the  Apache  boys  fleet  of  foot 
and  quick  of  eye  and  arm,  and  very  strong  in  lungs  and 
legs. 

The  Apaches  had  curious  customs  as  well  as  curious 
food. 

"  You  must  never  ask  a  Tinneh  ('  Tinneh '  was  the 
Apache's  own  title;  it  meant  'man')  his  name/'  ex- 
plained Nah-che.  "  Only  somebody  else  may  speak  it. 
If  he  spoke  it,  he  would  have  bad  luck." 

And 

"  You  must  never  speak  of  the  bear  or  the  mule  or 
the  snake  or  the  lightning  unless  you  say  Ostin  Shosh 
(Old  Man  Bear),  or  Ostin  Mule  or  Ostin  Snake  or 
Ostin  Lightning.  It  is  not  well  to  talk  about  them 
or  the  owl.  They  are  medicine." 

And 

"  After  you  are  married  you  must  not  look  upon 
the  face  of  your  wife's  mother.  You  must  avoid  meet- 
ing her  or  speaking  to  her.  You  must  hide  your  face 
or  turn  your  back,  or  you  will  be  disrespectful." 

And 

"  You  must  not  eat  fish  meat,  or  the  meat  of  the 
pig.  They  are  bad." 

And 

"  When  anyone  dies  we  give  away  everything  of  his 
that  we  don't  burn.  If  that  was  not  done,  then  there 
might  be  persons  of  bad  hearts  who  would  wish  a 
relative  to  die  so  that  they  would  get  his  property." 

And 

37 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"  When  I  go  on  the  trail  as  a  warrior,  for  the  first 
four  times  I  must  not  touch  my  lips  to  water.  I  must 
drink  through  a  hollow  reed,  or  I  will  spoil  the  luck  of 
the  whole  party.  And  I  must  not  scratch  my  head 
with  my  fingers.  I  must  use  a  scratch  stick." 

War  parties  went  out  frequently,  sometimes  under 
Geronimo,  sometimes  under  Cochise  also.  The  war- 
riors marched  on  foot,  as  a  rule,  because  then  they 
could  climb  and  hide  better.  On  foot  an  Apache  could 
travel  forty  to  seventy-five  miles  at  a  stretch,  which 
was  as  much  as  a  horse  could  do.  No  white  man  could 
equal  an  Apache,  in  covering  rough  country  and  desert 
country. 

The  parties  were  sent  out  mainly  against  the  Mexi- 
cans of  Mexico,  to  get  plunder,  although  the  Chirica- 
huas  had  no  love  for  the  Americans,  either,  Nah-che 
explained  again. 

He  was  sitting,  pulling  the  hairs  from  his  chin  and 
cheeks  with  a  pair  of  bone  tweezers.  It  was  unmanly 
for  a  warrior  to  have  any  hair  on  his  face,  and  Nah-che 
expected  to  be  a  warrior  after  he  had  made  four  war- 
trails.  Four  was  the  lucky  number,  with  the  Apaches. 

"  We  hate  the  Mexicans.  They  are  bad,"  said 
Nah-che.  "  They  kill  our  women  and  children,  and 
pay  for  scalps.  With  the  Americans  it  is  like  this : 

"  When  they  first  came  into  our  country  we  were 
friendly  to  them.  We  saw  that  they  were  different 
from  the  Mexicans,  and  they  had  been  at  war  with  the 
Mexicans,  too.  They  shot  one  of  us,  and  offered  to 
pay  a  little  something,  which  was  not  punishment 
enough.  Still  we  did  not  stay  at  war  with  them. 

38 


JIMMIE  LEARNS  TO  BE  APACHE 

Cochise  made  a  camp  near  the  American  wagon-road 
at  Apache  Pass,  where  Camp  Bowie  is  now,  and  traded, 
and  sold  wood.  One  time  a  Mexican  woman  and  her 
baby  were  stolen  by  some  bad  Indians  from  an  Ameri- 
can, and  the  Chiricahua  were  asked  to  return  them. 
We  did  not  have  them,  or  know  anything  about  them, 
but  Cochise  and  Mangas  Coloradas  of  the  Mimbreno 
Apaches  and  some  other  chiefs  went  with  a  white  flag 
to  meet  a  young  American  war  chief  at  Apache  Pass, 
and  talk. 

"When  they  got  there  the  American  chief  sur- 
rounded them  with  his  soldiers  and  told  them  that  they 
would  be  kept  shut  in  a  tent  until  they  sent  and  got 
the  baby  and  woman.  They  decided  they  would  rather 
be  killed  than  be  kept  prisoners.  So  they  drew  their 
knives,  and  Cochise  cut  a  hole  through  the  back  of  the 
tent,  and  there  was  a  fight.  Several  were  killed.  But 
Cochise  and  Mangas  Coloradas  escaped.  Cochise  was 
wounded  in  the  knee  by  a  gun  knife  (bayonet).  The 
Americans  hung  his  brother  and  five  others,  by  the 
neck,  and  Cochise  hung  an  American  by  the  neck; 
and  he  and  Mangas  Coloradas  called  all  their  warriors 
and  nearly  captured  the  Americans.  The  young  Amer- 
ican captain  had  acted  very  foolish. 

"  After  two  or  three  years  Mangas  Coloradas  (this 
was  Spanish  for  "Red  Sleeves")  grew  tired  of 
fighting.  He  was  badly  wounded,  and  he  sent  word 
that  he  would  like  to  treat  for  peace.  The  Americans 
told  him  to  come  in  with  his  people.  Cochise  had 
married  his  sister,  and  we  and  the  Mimbrenos  often 
helped  each  other,  and  now  Cochise  advised  him  not 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

to  trust  the  word  of  the  Americans.     But  Mangas 
Coloradas  went  to  an  American  fort  in  New  Mexico. 

"  Then  they  seized  him  and  put  him  into  a  little 
house  with  only  one  window,  high  up.  The  soldiers 
scowled  at  him ;  so  that  when  he  was  put  into  the  little 
house  he  said  to  himself :  '  This  is  my  end.  I  shall 
never  again  hunt  through  the  valleys  and  mountains  of 
my  people/  And  that  was  so.  This  night  while  he 
was  asleep  somebody  from  outside  threw  a  big  rock 
down  on  his  chest — or  else  a  soldier  guard  punched 
him  with  a  hot  knife  on  the  end  of  a  gun.  We  do 
not  know.  Anyway,  he  was  much  frightened.  He  ran 
about,  trying  to  climb  out  and  fight  with  his  hands 
and  then  the  soldiers  shot  him  many  times,  and  he  died. 

"  Now  you  see  that  the  Chiricahua  cannot  be  friends 
with  the  Americans  any  more  than  with  the  Mexicans, 
and  it  is  so  with  other  Tinneh.  The  Warm  Springs 
are  friendly,  because  Chief  Victorio  thinks  that  is  wise ; 
and  the  Sierra  Blanca  (White  Mountains)  have  agreed 
not  to  fight.  But  they  have  not  lost  chiefs  and  brothers 
like  we  have." 

This  was  the  way  the  Chiricahua  Apaches  thought. 
But  of  course  there  were  two  sides  to  the  quarrel. 
Joe  Felmer  and  Pete  Kitchen  and  other  pioneers  had 
claimed  that  old  Mangas  Coloradas  had  been  a  regular 
bandit  who  never  intended  to  stay  at  peace.  He  had 
tortured  and  killed  men  and  women  and  children,  and 
was  determined  to  drive  all  the  Americans  out  of  the 
country.  Once  he  had  been  captured  by  miners  and 
tied  up  and  whipped,  which  had  made  him  worse. 

He  had  lived  to  be  seventy  years  old,  and  although 

40 


JIMMIE  LEARNS  TO  BE  APACHE 

even  Pete  Kitchen  did  not  wholly  approve  of  the  man- 
ner with  which  he  had  been  disposed  of,  it  was  a  great 
relief  to  have  him  out  of  the  way.  Maybe  he  might 
have  been  educated  to  stay  at  peace,  and  maybe  not. 

But  now  that  the  Chiricahuas  hated  the  Americans 
and  Mexicans  both,  Jimmie  saw  little  chance  of  escape. 

Maria  the  Mexican  boy  had  settled  down  to  be  an 
Apache.  All  his  folks  had  been  killed,  and  he  said 
that  he  might  as  well  live  with  the  Apaches.  He  had 
plenty  to  eat  and  little  to  do;  and  he  thought  that  he 
would  marry  an  Apache  girl,  when  he  was  old  enough, 
and  stay  Apache. 

The  Red-head  boy  who  lived  with  the  White  Moun- 
tain Apaches  came  in  once  or  twice,  to  visit,  while 
out  hunting  or  just  scouting  around.  He  could  not 
speak  English.  His  father  had  been  Irish  and  his 
mother  Mexican,  and  Spanish  had  been  the  only  lan- 
guage used  in  his  home.  Since  the  Apaches  had  cap- 
tured him  eight  or  nine  years  ago  he  had  learned 
Apache,  too. 

"  Are  you  going  to  stay  Apache,  Red-head  ?  "  asked 
Jimmie. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Red-head,  in  Apache.  "  I'll  stay 
with  the  White  Mountains,  but  I  don't  like  the  Chirica- 
hua.  It  is  no  use  for  them  to  fight  the  Americans. 
Besides,  they  killed  my  father  and  mother.  Are  you 
going  to  be  a  Chiricamia,  Boy-who-sleeps  ?  " 

Jimmie  shook  his  head. 

"  No.  I  am  American.  I  don't  want  to  be  any- 
thing but  American.  I'm  a  white  boy/' 

"  That  is  good,"  approved  Red-head.     He  was  a 

41 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

snappy,  energetic  boy,  built  low  to  the  ground,  and 
with  his  red  hair  and  freckled  face  and  one  bright 
blue  eye  looked  very  nervy.  "  I  like  the  Americans. 
Some  day  I'll  be  a  scout  with  the  American  soldiers. 
The  White  Mountain  Apaches  are  good  Apaches. 
Chief  Pedro  is  wise.  He  knows  that  it  is  no  use  to  fight 
the  Americans.  It  is  better  to  live  at  peace  with  them, 
and  raise  corn,  and  hunt,  and  be  given  food  and  clothes. 
That  is  easier  than  fighting  and  starving  and  losing 
warriors.  The  Americans  are  too  many,  and  are  well 
armed.  The  Chiricahua  have  bad  hearts  and  will  all 
be  killed.  You  ought  to  leave  them." 

"  I  can't,"  replied  Jimmie.  "  I  don't  know  where 
to  go." 

"  Well,"  said  Red-head,  winking  with  his  one 
shrewd  blue  eye,  "  wait  and  maybe  I'll  help  you.  But 
don't  tell  anybody  about  my  talk  with  you." 


Ill 

THE  RED-HEAD  TURNS  UP 

JIMMIE  had  been  with  the  Cochise  Chiricahuas 
about  a  year,  as  he  reckoned,  because  winter  (and  not  a 
cold  winter)  had  passed,  and  the  yuccas,  or  Spanish- 
bayonet  cactuses,  and  the  mescal,  or  century  plant  cac- 
tuses, were  again  in  bloom  with  their  tall,  stately  plumes 
of  white,  which  indicated  May. 

All  this  time  nobody  had  come  looking  for  him, 
and  he  did  not  know  what  was  going  on  outside — at 
Pete  Kitchen's  or  at  Tucson  or  at  Camp  Grant  or  at 
Joe  Felmer's,  or  anywhere. 

All  the  news  was  Apache  news ;  gossip  about  hunt- 
ing and  raids,  and  cowardly  Mexicans  and  stupid 
Americans. 

Camps  had  been  changed  frequently,  for  the  Chiri- 
cahuas did  not  remain  long  in  any  one  spot.  He  had 
not  seen  Red-head  in  several  months.  According  to 
Nah-che  the  soldiers  were  getting  more  numerous,  and 
were  fighting  all  the  Apaches — the  Chiricahuas  and  the 
Tontos  and  the  Yavapais  or  Apache-Mohaves  and  the 
Mogollons:  all  who  would  not  settle  down  at  peace 
like  the  White  Mountains  and  the  Warm  Springs. 

Part  of  the  winter  had  been  spent  in  Mexico,  but 
just  now  the  camp  had  been  located  again  amidst  the 
Chiricahua  Mountains.  Most  of  the  warriors  were  out 
on  a  big  raid,  under  Cochise  and  Geronimo.  They  had 
not  taken  any  of  the  older  boys.  By  this  it  looked  as 
though  they  were  going  into  American  country,  where 
they  might  meet  the  soldiers. 

43 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

Nah-che  admitted  as  much.  He  said  that  report 
had  come  of  a  killing  of  friendly  Apaches  at  Camp 
Grant,  so  it  was  useless  to  trust  the  White-eyes  (as  the 
Americans  were  called)  ;  they  were  the  enemies  of  the 
Apaches,  and  Cochise  had  gone  to  kill  all  the  Mexicans 
and  Americans  that  he  could  find,  down  there. 

Jimmie  felt  anxious.  He  well  knew  how  cunning 
and  bold  the  Cochise  Chiricahuas  were.  They  had 
plenty  of  arms,  including  guns  that  they  had  captured. 
They  were  particularly  eager  to  kill  a  young  American 
war-captain  who  had  been  leading  soldiers  upon  their 
trail. 

"  Was  he  a  new  young  war-captain?  " 

"  No,  he  was  an  old  young  war-captain — a  horse 
chief.  He  had  killed  Apaches  out  of  Tucson  and  Camp 
Grant  both." 

As  Nah-che  would  not  talk  any  more  about  him, 
Jimmie  might  only  guess.  But  all  the  young  officers  in 
the  First  and  the  Third  Cavalry  at  Camp  Grant  had 
been  brave. 

The  Cochise  and  Geronimo  party  were  gone  more 
than  half  a  moon  before  word  arrived  from  them. 
Then,  one  morning,  two  runners  or  messengers,  Porico 
("  White  Horse  "),  who  was  Geronimo's  brother,  and 
Hal-zay,  who  was  a  half-brother  to  Nah-che,  appeared. 
They  had  traveled  hard  and  were  tired,  but  they 
brought  exciting  news. 

The  Chiricahuas  had  ambushed  twenty  American 
soldiers  and  scouts  at  the  Bear  Springs  in  the  Mestinez 
(Mustang)  Mountains  only  a  day's  march  east  from 
Tucson;  had  killed  six  of  them,  maybe  more,  and  had 

44 


THE  RED-HEAD  TURNS  UP 

driven  the  rest  back  clear  into  Camp  Crittenden,  south- 
east of  Tucson;  would  have  surrounded  and  killed 
them,  too,  had  they  not  fought  so  skillfully. 

A  few  Chiricahuas  had  been  killed,  but  among  the 
first  to  fall,  of  the  Americans,  was  the  young  horse 
chief  who  had  given  the  Chiricahuas  so  much  trouble. 
They  had  taken  his  clothes  and  other  trophies,  and 
had  easily  escaped  to  the  Sierra  Madre  Mountains  of 
Mexico. 

Cochise  was  going  to  stay  there  for  a  time,  until  the 
soldiers  quit  trying  to  trail  him.  Then  he  would  come 
north. 

The  old  squaws  in  the  rancheria  immediately  lay 
flat  upon  their  stomachs  and  screeched  and  wailed, 
mourning  the  warriors  who  had  fallen.  This  was 
Apache  custom.  But  the  camp  on  the  whole  was  happy 
and  Jimmie  was  the  only  truly  sad  member.  He  was 
not  an  Apache;  he  was  an  American,  even  though  he 
did  not  look  much  like  a  white  boy,  now,  save  for  his 
eyes  and  hair. 

The  camp  was  moved,  to  guard  against  a  surprise 
Jfrom  the  soldiers  of  the  American  forts.  After  an- 
other half  a  moon  the  war  party  came  in  and  were  given 
a  great  welcome.  They  had  eaten  most  of  the  cap- 
tured cavalry  horses,  but  they  brought  some  of  the 
other  plunder.  Taza  was  wearing  the  flannel  shirt  of 
the  young  officer. 

He  was  very  proud  of  it.  It  was  a  blue  shirt,  with 
the  straps  of  a  first  lieutenant  sewed  upon  the  shoulders. 
Jimmie  recognized  these,  because  he  knew  army  uni- 
forms. The  shirt  was  passed  about  Inside  the  neck 

45 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

had  been  stitched  a  little  tag,  bearing  the  letters  "H. 
B.  C."  printed  on  it. 

Oh!  This  was  Lieutenant  Gushing' s  shirt,  then! 
His  initials  were  H.  B.  C.,  for  Howard  B.  Gushing;  and 
he  was  a  first  lieutenant,  and  he  had  commanded  lots 
of  detachments  out  of  Camp  Grant,  against  the 
Apaches.  He  was  a  terrific  fighter,  too,  and  one  of 
the  very  best  officers  on  a  trail.  Jimmie  remembered 
him  well.  All  southern  Arizona  knew  of  Lieutenant 
Howard  B.  Gushing  of  the  Third  Cavalry.  He  had 
served  through  the  Civil  War ;  one  of  his  brothers  had 
been  killed  at  Gettysburg  and  another,  as  a  lieutenant 
in  the  navy,  had  blown  up  the  Confederate  iron-clad 
Albemarle  by  poking  it  with  a  bomb  attached  to  a  long 
pole. 

This  Lieutenant  Gushing  of  the  Third  Cavalry  was 
just  as  brave.  The  Apaches  had  had  good  reason  to 
fear  him.  No  wonder  they  rejoiced,  now  that  they 
had  ambushed  him  and  wiped  him  out. 

Nah-che  saw  Jimmie  gulp  in  his  throat.  Nah-che 
had  keen  eyes. 

"  You  know  him?  "  asked  Nah-che. 

"  Friend,"  answered  Jimmie,  turning  away. 

"  He  was  a  brave  captain,"  volunteered  Nah-che. 
"  He  fought  hard.  But  in  war  brave  men  die." 

Jimmie  longed  for  the  Red-head  to  take  him  away ; 
or  for  soldiers  or  scouts  to  attack  the  camp  and  rescue 
him. 

The  killing  of  Lieutenant  Gushing  encouraged  the 
Chiricahuas.  Cochise  had  talks  with  Chiefs  Loco  and 
Chihuahua,  and  with  Chief  Nana  who  was  with  a 

46 


THE  RED-HEAD  TURNS  UP 

Warm  Spring  band  and  helping  the  Chiricahuas.  Par- 
ties were  being  sent  out  constantly ;  some  of  the  captains 
took  their  families,  Maria  was  traded  to  Chief  Nana, 
and  soon  the  main  Chiricahua  canip  was  much  smaller. 

One  day  Nah-che,  who  had  been  away  with  Geron- 
imo,  came  hurrying  in  with  orders  for  the  camp  to  be 
moved  again. 

"  There  are  soldiers  marching  this  way,"  he  re- 
ported, breathless,  and  big  with  his  news.  "  They 
struck  us  when  we  were  eating,  in  the  medicine  springs 
valley  near  the  Sierra  Bonita.  We  were  bringing  meat 
up  from  Mexico,  but  we  left  it.  We  have  seen  signal 
fires  telling  us  of  other  soldiers.  Geronimo  says  to  go 
at  once  to  the  next  place- we-know-of." 

Instantly  the  camp  was  all  confusion.  The  old 
men  shouted,  the  women  ran  around  screeching  and 
gathering  their  household  things,  children  scampered 
and  screamed,  dogs  yelped.  The  frameworks  of  the 
huts  were  set  afire,  and  leaving  in  the  smoke  the  Chirica- 
huas hustled  out  for  other  quarters. 

They  made  a  queer  procession.  The  old  men 
stoutly  hobbled  by  aid  of  long  staffs  or  "  walking- 
sticks  " ;  the  women  were  laden  with  huge  bundles  slung 
to  their  backs  by  means  of  straps  about  their  foreheads, 
and  with  babies  tucked  into  their  shawls  or  bound 
in  wicker  cradles ;  ponies  had  been  packed  with  baskets ; 
the  smaller  children  rode  atop,  but  the  strong  boys 
and  girls  walked.  Jimmie  and  the  boys  of  his  age  were 
not  obliged  to  carry  anything. 

Through  canyon  and  across  valley,  into  brush  and 
timber,  up  slope  and  down,  they  toiled,  led  by  old 

47 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

Cha-dah,  who  was  the  camp  tatah  or  chief.  Every 
so  often  the  tatah  and  the  other  old  men  in  advance 
halted,  and  stuck  their  staffs  into  the  ground,  and 
waited.  Here  everybody  rested,  for  a  brief  space. 
By  this  system  many  miles  were  covered  before  camp 
was  established,  at  evening,  and  all  might  eat  and 
sleep. 

Jimmie,  lying  wrapped  in  a  piece  of  blanket  near 
Nah-che,  under  a  pine  tree,  was  awakened  in  the  night 
by  a  hand  firmly  pressed  upon  his  forehead.  The 
pressure  warned  him  not  to  stir,  so  he  only  stared  up — 
and  in  the  star-lighted  dimness  he  saw  the  one  bright 
eye  of  Red-head  beaming  down  from  close  above  him. 

Red-head  was  squatting,  waiting.  Now  he  re- 
moved his  hand  slowly,  and  beckoned  with  his  finger, 
and  silently  backed  away. 

This  was  enough  for  Jimmie.  What  Red-head 
was  doing  here,  on  a  sudden,  after  a  long  absence,  he 
did  not  delay  to  reason  out,  but  began  cautiously  to 
slip  from  his  blanketing. 

First  he  drew  away,  crouched ;  then'  on  hands  and 
knees ;  then,  stooping,  and  carefully  setting  foot  before 
foot,  testing  the  ground  lest  a  twig  snap.  From  tree  to 
tree  he  stole,  until  he  was  beyond  the  camp — and  on  a 
sudden,  again,  Red-head  arose  right  in  front  of  him. 

TKatt  was  good !  Now  he  followed  behind  the  Red- 
head's soundless  course,  swiftly,  straight  away,  until 
Red-head  stopped. 

"  Do  you  want  to  escape  ?  "  asked  Red-head.  He 
carried  a  bow  and  quiver,  and  wore  only  a  cloth  about 
his  middle,  and  moccasins. 

48 


THE  RED-HEAD  TURNS  UP 

"  Yes." 

"  If  you'll  travel  fast,  I'll  take  you,"  said  Red- 
head. "  Soldiers  are  coming.  If  we  don't  find  them 
you  can  go  to  Chief  Pedro  of  the  White  Mountains. 
The  Chiricahua  never  visit  there,  because  of  the  fort." 

"  Bueno  (Good),"  approved  Jimmie. 

Red-head  set  out  at  a  trot  and  rapid  walk,  but  Jim- 
mie kept  right  in  his  wake.  Jimmie's  legs  were  as 
strong  as  those  of  Red-head ;  his  training  in  the  Apache 
games  stood  by  him.  On  and  on  and  on  they  hastened, 
without  a  word,  through  the  night,  amidst  timber,  and 
across  open  flats,  and  down  cactus  hills  and  up  again. 

Red-head  seemed  to  know  what  he  was  about,  but 
Jimmie  of  course  was  completely  lost.  Not  until  the 
dusk  had  thinned  and  the  eastern  sky  was  pink  did 
Red-head  halt,  at  a  spring  which  had  made  the  ground 
mushy  in  a  little  hollow  among  rocks  and  cedars. 

"•Drink,  eat,  rest,"  he  said.  He  grinned  with 
his  freckled  face,  his  long  red  hair  was  damp  with 
sweat.  "  You  did  well,  Boy-who-sleeps.  One  more 
travel  and  they  cannot  catch  us.  Wait." 

He  fitted  an  arrow  to  his  bow-string  and  stepped 
aside,  hunting.  Jimmie  flung  himself  down,  drank,  and 
lay  flat,  resting.  The  sky  was  pink  as  far  as  over-head, 
he  might  glimpse  Red-head  moving  silently  among  the 
'cedars;  saw  him  shoot  an  arrow;  and  presently  Red- 
head returned  with  two  rabbits. 

They  started  a  fire  by  twirling  a  pointed  stick  set 
upon  a  flat  piece  of  wood  until  the  dust  smoked ;  then 
they  blew  upon  the  dust  and  some  bark  tinder  until 
there  was  a  glow.  Then  they  cooked  the  rabbits  over 
dry  cedar  that  made  no  smoke. 

4  49 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

First  by  the  stars  and  later  by  the  pink  east  Jimmie 
knew  that  they  had  been  traveling  toward  the  north. 
Now  Red-head  explained.  Some  of  his  talk  was 
Apache  and  some  was  Spanish-Mexican.  He  used 
whichever  language  came  the  easier. 

"  We  will  not  go  straight  to  Camp  Apache  in  the 
country  where  the  White  Mountains  are,"  he  said.  "  It 
is  better  that  we  go  round-about.  If  the  Chiricahua 
see  that  we  are  going  to  Camp  Apache  that  might  make 
trouble.  They  would  say  that  the  White  Mountains 
stole  you,  and  some  time  they  might  capture  me.  Now 
if  they  try  to  follow  us,  we  will  fool  them. 

"  I  will  tell  you  about  the  soldiers.  There  is  a  new 
American  comandante.  He  has  come  to  Tucson,  to 
fight  the  bad  Indians.  He  is  leading  out  a>  great  lot 
of  horse  soldiers  and  white  scouts  and  tame-Indian 
scouts — Navahos  and  Papagos  and  Yaquis  and 
Apaches,  too — and  wagons  and  pack-mules.  He  has 
been  at  Camp  Bowie,  and  he  is  marching  north  to 
Camp  Apache,  but  he  may  not  stay.  The  White  Moun- 
tains have  heard  this  from  runners.  The  runners  say 
that  he  is  a  wonderful  comandante,  who  knows  every- 
thing but  asks  many  questions.  Shall  we  try  to  find 
him,  Boy-who-sleeps  ?  I  think  that  now  is  a  good 
chance,  while  the  Chiricahua  are  hiding." 

"  I  don't  want  to  live  with  the  Chiricahuas," 
asserted  Jimmie.  "  I  hate  them.  They  kill  my 
friends.  I'm  not  an  Indian.  I'm  white." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I'm  American  or  Mexican 
or  Indian,"  grinned  Red-head.  "  I  can  be  anything, 
What  is  your  American  name,  Boy-who-sleeps  ?  I  will 
call  you  by  it.  We  will  quit  being  Apache." 

£0 


THE  RED-HEAD  TURNS  UP 

"James  MacGregor  Dunn,  but  everybody  called 
me  Jimmie." 

"Inju  (good)/'  grunted  Red-head,  in  Apache. 
"  I  am  called  Micky  Free  by  the  soldiers  at  Camp 
Apache.  You  shall  call  me  Micky,  and  I  shall  call  you 
Cheemie. 

"  How  did  you  lose  your  eye,  Micky?  " 

"  By  a  deer.  Three  or  four  years  ago  I  shot  a  deer 
with  an  arrow,  and  knocked  him  down.  I  thought  I 
had  killed  him,  but  when  I  ran  and  grabbed  his  head 
he  fought  me  and  struck  me  with  his  horn  in  the  eye. 
Old  Miguel  has  only  one  eye,  too.  He  lost  that  in 
battle." 

"  Who  is  old  Miguel?" 

"  He  is  a  White  Mountain  chief.  There  are  Miguel 
and  Pedro  and  old  Es-ki-tis-tsla  and  Pi-to-ne.  They 
are  for  peace. " 

"  Inju,"  grunted  Jimmie. 

While  they  rested  and  a,te  and  drank,  Micky  kept 
a  sharp  look-out.  Every  now  and  again  he  mounted 
upon  a  rocky  ledge  and  lay  there,  peering. 

"  I  see  smokes/'  he  said,  coming  down  the  last 
time.  "  I  do  not  think  they  are  meant  for  us.  The 
Chiricahua  are  signaling  to  each  other.  But  we  had 
better  go  on,  Cheemie,  to  a  cave  I  know  of.  We  will 
sleep." 

Yes,  there  were  smokes,  far  back  on  their  trail: 
smokes  that  signaled  "  enemies."  This  was  well,  be- 
cause with  enemies  around,  the  Chiricahuas  would  not 
risk  following  the  trail  of  a  boy.  So  that  noon  Jimmie 
and  Micky  slept  in  Micky's  cave,  which  was  concealed 

51 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

high  up  in  the  side  of  a  canyon.  They  entered  it  from 
above.  From  the  mouth  they  might  see  a  long  distance. 
"  In  two  days  we  shall  cross  the  Tonto  country/' 
remarked  Micky.  "  That  is  where  we  turn  east  for 
Camp  Apache  and  the  White  Mountains.  We  will  have 
to  be  very  careful  again.  The  Tonto  are  bad  people. 
They  are  outlaws.  When  an  Apache  gets  bad,  he 
joins  the  Tonto." 


IV 

THE  CANVAS  SUIT  MAN 

THE  country  was  steadily  growing  wilder,  with 
much  large  timber.  For  two  days  Micky  had  been 
leading  on  and  on.  The  Chiracahuas  did  not  seem  to 
be  pursuing,  and  Jimmie  was  certain  that  he  had  escaped 
from  them.  He  wished  that  he  might  have  said 
good-by  to  good  Nah-da-ste,  who  had  taken  care  of 
him ;  and  to  his  friends  Nah-che  and  Chato,  and  some 
others ;  but  of  course  that  had  not  been  possible.  They 
might  have  known  that  he  could  not  stay  being  an 
Apache. 

Now  on  this  the  third  day  from  the  cave  Micky 
suddenly  stopped  short  and  examined  an  object  beside 
him.  They  had  been  following  just  below  a  gravelly 
ridge,  so  as  to  be  out  of  sight.  Yuccas  and  bunchy  grass 
grew  here,  and  a  few  cedars,  and  the  sun  was  warm. 

"  Tonto  sign,"  spoke  Micky,  pointing. 

It  was  a  band  of  dried  grass  knotted  around  a  yucca 
leaf.  Only  eyes  like  those  of  Micky  would  have  seen 
it;  but  Micky  saw  everything. 

"  How  do  you  know,  Micky  ?  " 

"  Because  I  know,"  answered  Micky.  "  That  is  the 
way  the  Tonto  tie  their  grass.  A  White  Mountain 
would  have  tied  different,  and  so  would  a  Chiricahua 
or  a  Final.  And  the  same  with  piling  stones  or  writing 
signs  on  rocks  or  bark.  It  means  a  Tonto  war  party 
has  passed  here,  and  tells  other  Tonto  to  follow.  See 
— there  is  the  trail." 

53 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"Shall  we  hide,  Micky?" 

"  No.  The  trail  was  made  early  this  morning.  It 
is  an  old  trail.  See,  Cheemie?  You  have  lived  with 
the  Chiricahua  and  you  ought  to  know.  There  is  a 
broken  twig,  where  it  was  stepped  on,  and  the  leaves 
are  wilted.  The  sap  is  done  flowing.  I  think  we'd  bet- 
ter follow  and  see  where  those  Tonto  are  going,  so 
we  won't  run  into  them." 

The  trail  proceeded  up  the  gravelly  ridge,  where 
moccasin  prints  were  plain,  and  over,  and  through 
among  cedars  of  a  flat  mesa;  and  suddenly  Jimmie 
fairly  gasped  for  breath.  They  had  come  out  upon  the 
edge  of  a  great,  broad,  deep  valley  lying  like  a  green 
basin;  it  was  so  deep  that  the  trees  in  it  looked  like 
shrubs,  and  the  farther  edge  was  veiled  in  purple  mist. 

"  Tonto  home,"  said  Micky.  "  Down  in  there  the 
Tonto  live,  where  they  can  hide.  Up  here  is  Mogollon 
country.  It  is  all  a  flat  mountain  top,  on  the  Sierra 
Mogollon.  We  shall  see  many  big  pine  trees  soon. 
When  we  find  where  this  Tonto  trail  goes  we  had  better 
turn  back." 

The  trail  skirted  the  dizzy  edge ;  then  it  veered  in- 
land, and  was  joined  by  another  trail,  and  presently  the 
joined  trails  made  straight  into  a  tremendous  forest. 
The  trees  were  all  pines ;  they  stood  up  tall  and  stately, 
and  under  them  the  ground  was  clean,  except  for  the 
needles  and  the  low  grass  and  flowers.  Throughout  the 
long  aisles  flecked  by  the  sun  not  a  thing  moved.  It 
was  a  silent  forest. 

Micky  and  Jimmie  trotted  fast,  their  eyes  upon  the 
trail,  or  searching  ahead.  Now  it  was  past  noon. 

54 


THE  CANVAS  SUIT  MAN 

Once  in  a  while  the  view  opened  into  the  great  Tonto 
Basin;  and  again  there  was  only  the  timber,  with  the 
serried  trunks  extending  on  every  side.  In  such  a 
forest,  and  when  gazing  into  such  a  basin,  a  boy  felt 
small. 

About  an  hour  or  an  hour  and  a  half  after  noon 
Micky,  who  was  just  before,  stopped  short  once  more — 
stopped  so  quickly  that  he  stood  with  one  foot  up- 
lifted. He  signed  "  Come,"  and  Jimmie  came  on. 

"  Horse  tracks  now,  Cheemie.  American  horses. 
Mules,  too.  American  soldiers." 

This  was  a  larger  trail;  the  pine  needles  were  im- 
printed with  many  hoof  marks.  The  horses  had  been 
ridden  four  abreast — yes,  five  and  six  abreast,  so  that 
the  trail  lay  broadly.  They  were  shod  horses,  which 
meant  cavalry  horses,  because  the  Apache  horses  were 
not  shod,  save  with  buckskin  boots  in  cactus  country. 
No  Apaches  rode  four  or  five  abreast,  anyway.  The 
mule  prints  were  smaller  and  rounder;  and  the  prints 
cut  deeper,  showing  that  the  mules  had  been  laden: 
pack-mules. 

Hah!  Micky  studied  the  new  trail.  The  Tontos, 
too,  had  paused  and  studied  it. 

"  These  are  some  of  the  soldiers  I  spoke  of,  I 
think,"  finally  declared  Micky.  "  They  have  been  at 
Camp  Apache,  maybe.  Anyhow,  they  are  going  away 
from  it.  Maybe  the  Tonto  will  attack  them.  What 
do  you  say  to  do,  Cheemie  ?  My  heart  tells  me  we  have 
gone  far  enough.  Shall  we  turn  back,  for  Camp 
Apache?" 

"  I'd  rather  try  to  find  the  soldiers,  Micky." 

55 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"  I  will  take  you  to  Camp  Apache.  There  are  sol- 
diers at  Camp  Apache;  and  the  White  Mountains  will 
be  good  to  you  if  the  soldiers  don't  want  you.  We 
will  all  be  chi-kis-n  to  you." 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  these  soldiers,  Micky?  " 

"  No ;  but  I  am  afraid  of  the  Tonto.  Besides,  I  live 
with  Chief  Pedro's  people  on  the  reservation  near  Camp 
Apache.  I  have  no  business  off  in  this  other  direction." 

"  I  have,  though,"  answered  Jimmie.  "  I  live  at 
Camp  Grant.  Maybe  these  soldiers  are  marching  back 
to  Camp  Grant,  or  Tucson,  and  they'll  take  me  there." 

"  Well,"  replied  Micky,  "  I  will  follow  with  you, 
Cheemie."  His  one  blue  eye  danced.  "  If  there  is  a 
fight,  I  would  like  to  see  it.  I  would  like  to  see  those 
Tonto  whipped.  But  don't  expect  me  to  stay  with  the 
soldiers,  Cheemie.  That  might  make  me  trouble. 
Come  on,  but  we  must  be  very  careful,  or  the  Tonto 
will  kill  us,  too." 

After  having  surveyed  the  soldiers'  trail  the  Tontos 
had  continued  on  beside  it,  and  between  it  and  the  edge 
of  the  basin.  But  Micky  crossed  the  soldiers'  trail  and 
hurried  away  from  it.  He  seemed  much  excited  by  the 
prospect  of  a  fight,  for  he  set  such  a  pace  that  Jimmie 
half  ran.  Evidently  he  was  going  to  circuit  out  and 
back  again,  to  cut  the  trail  farther  ahead. 

Jimmie  kept  his  ears  sharp  pricked  for  soldier 
sounds — voices,  or  the  creak  of  saddle-leathers,  or  the 
tinkle  of  pack-mule  bells ;  and  also  for  the  shooting  of 
guns :  but  all  was  silence.  Twice  Micky  and  he  struck 
the  trail  again.  It  wended  right  along,  among  the 
trees,  and  it  was  getting  fresher.  Indeed,  the  soldiers 

56 


THE  CANVAS  SUIT  MAN 

could  not  be  far  ahead,  now.  No  Tonto  trail  had  been 
cut;  therefore  the  Tontos  were  still  on  the  other  side 
of  the  soldiers'  trail. 

The  sun  had  sunk  toward  some  high  purplish  ridges 
away  yonder,  bounding  the  basin  in  the  west,  and 
evening  was  near.  The  third  time  that  Micky  led  in,  to 
cut  the  trail,  he  and  Jimmie  got  clear  to  the  edge  of  the 
great  basin  without  coming  to  any  trail  at  all.  For 
the  last  hundred  yards  they  had  crawled,  with  bunches 
of  weeds  tied  to  their  heads,  lest  the  Tontos  should  be 
in  waiting,  but  nothing  had  happened. 

The  big  pines  extended  to  the  edge  of  the  basin, 
and  along  the  edge  were  large  boulders,  scattered  among 
the  trees  here.  Some  of  them  were  the  size  of  a  hut. 
They  lay  in  twos  and  threes,  as  if  dropped  by  a  blast. 

Micky,  with  Jimmie  close  behind,  wormed  from 
the  trees  for  two  boulders  that  touched.  They  touched 
at  an  angle,  so  that  they  left  a  space,  within  which 
two  boys  might  crouch,  on  the  ground,  and  see  out  by 
peeping  through  the  cracks,  or  by  standing  up. 

"  We  have  come  far  enough,  Cheemie,"  whispered 
Micky.  "  It  is  a  good  place  to  stay,  till  the  Tonto 
and  the  soldiers  pass.  And  if  they  do  not  fight  I  am 
going  back  to  my  White  Mountains.  But  I  want  to  see 
the  fight.  Are  you  thirsty,  Cheemie?  You'll  have  to 
drink  a  stone." 

He  picked  up  a  round  pebble  and  put  it  into  his 
mouth.  Jimmie  did  the  same.  A  pebble  in  the  mouth 
made  the  mouth  wet. 

"  Listen !  "  bade  Jimmie.     "  I  hear  tinkle ! " 

*  Yes ;  pack-mules.    The  soldiers  are  coming.  You 

57 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

can  go  with  them,  Cheemie,  but  you  must  not  say  one 
word  about  me.     Promise." 

"  All  right,  Micky." 

The  bells  of  the  pack-mules  were  yet  a  long  way 
off.  Micky,  with  the  weeds  still  bound  on  his  head, 
cautiously  rose,  to  peer  over  the  two  boulders — and 
down  he  dropped. 

"  S-s-s !  Tonto!  "  he  whispered. 

He  began  to  poke  out  his  head,  gradually,  around 
a  corner  of  the  rock  on  his  side.  Jimmie  gently  wrig- 
gled, crawling  flat,  until  he  was  under  an  over-hang 
on  his  side,  and  might  see  straight  before,  with  his  head 
just  raised  from  the  ground.  Right  up  over  the  edge 
of  the  mighty  basin  figures  were  popping,  and  scuttling 
for  the  timber :  a  file  of  them,  Apaches ! 

They  crossed  not  more  than  thirty  yards  away. 
They  were  naked  of  body  and  limbs,  their  hair  was 
black  and  long  and  straggly,  they  were  daubed  with 
deer  blood  and  mescal  juice,  they  carried  strung  bows 
and  quivers,  they  were  the  fiercest,  most  hideous 
Apaches  that  Jimmie  had  ever  seen. 

The  low  sun  shone  full  against  them,  showing  them 
plainly.  They  scarcely  glanced  aside  as  they  hurried ; 
and  if  they  did  chance  to  note  Micky's  head  or  Jimmie's 
head,  they  thought  them  to  be  two  motionless  tufts  of 
weed,  like  other  tufts  growing  here  and  there. 

Tontos!  Jimmie  counted  seventeen,  all  springing 
out  of  the  depths  of  the  earth  as  suddenly  as  jacks- 
in-the-box,  darting  across,  and  in  among  the  pines. 
Then  there  were  two  more,  who  dropped  among  the 
rocks  under  the  trees. 

58 


THE  CANVAS  SUIT  MAN 

After  the  last  had  passed  and  vanished,  Micky 
kicked  Jimmie' s  leg,  and  Jimmie  drew  back  to  face 
him  behind  the  boulders.  Micky's  blue  eye  fairly 
sparkled ;  even  his  freckles  glowed,  he  was  so  excited. 
He  certainly  loved  danger.  He  was  not  American 
enough  to  say  "  Hurrah ! "  but  he  looked  it ! 

"  The  Tonto  are  ready,"  he  whispered.  "  We'll 
see  the  fight.  Good!  Quick!  The  soldiers  are 
coming." 

He  crawled  around  the  boulders,  craned  and  peered, 
crept  swiftly,  with  Jimmie  in  his  tracks,  to  a  better 
place,  and  wormed  his  way  until  they  both  might  lie 
in  a  warm  niche  half  filled  with  washed-in  soil  and 
screened  with  brush.  From  here  they  could  see  much 
better  into  the  timber  beyond  the  cross  trail  of  the 
Tontos. 

Jimmie  felt  a  wild  desire  to  warn  the  soldiers  of  the 
ambush  by  the  Tontos;  but  the  Tontos  were  cutting 
him  off  and  he  had  no  time  for  making  a  circuit.  No, 
none  at  all.  The  soldiers  were  in  sight — the  head  of 
their  column  had  appeared,  riding  on,  up  an  aisle 
through  the  towering  pines,  a  short  way  back  from  the 
edge  of  the  basin. 

The  first,  by  themselves,  were  five,  riding  leisurely 
almost  knee  to  knee,  and  apparently  enjoying  the  scen- 
ery. Their  voices  might  be  heard,  as  they  chatted. 
One,  a  small,  sun-dried  man,  wore  an  old  slouch  hat 
and  grayish  flannel  shirt  and  dark  trousers  and  cowhide 
boots.  He  was  Tom  Moore,  a  government  packer. 
Jimmie  knew  him — had  seen  him  at  Camp  Grant  and 
in  Tucson.  Hah !  And  three  were  officers,  in  cavalry 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

fatigue — there  was  Lieutenant  John  Bourke,  of  Camp 
Grant !  Yes,  sir !  And  Lieutenant  William  Ross !  And 
another.  But  the  man  in  the  middle,  on  a  mule,  Jimmie 
did  not  know  at  all. 

If  he  was  riding  there  he  ought  to  be  an  officer,  but 
he  seemed  to  be  wearing  a  brown  canvas  suit,  a  sort  of 
brown  canvas  round-brimmed  hat,  and  carried  a  shot- 
gun across  the  pommel  of  his  saddle,  the  muzzle  of 
course  pointing  ahead.  Perhaps  he  was  some  sports- 
man from  the  East,  on  a  hunting  trip,  with  the  cavalry. 

Micky  lay  perfectly  still,  intent  to  see  with  his  one 
eye  what  would  happen,  but  Jimmie  trembled.  His 
soldier  friends  were  riding  into  an  ambush  and  evi- 
dently had  no  suspicion  of  danger.  Neither  did  their 
horses.  The  timber,  with  the  sunshine  streaming 
through  the  long  aisles,  stretched  fragrant  and  peac&- 
ful.  The  air  was  so  quiet  that  the  riders'  voices,  the 
occasional  blowing  of  the  horses,  the  scuff  of  hoofs 
and  the  creak  of  saddles,  could  be  heard  plainly. 

The  cavalry  column  itself  was  to  be  seen,  behind, 
a  short  distance,  winding  on  among  the  trees,  and  the 
tinkle  of  the  pack  bells  sounded,  again.  Jimmie  caught 
his  breath.  Micky  was  tense,  beside  him.  The  ad- 
vance squad  apparently  had  reached  the  Tontos — were 

within  short  bow-shot,  anyway.  Whjr  didn't ? 

Ah,  look  out ! 

"Twang!  Whiz!"  "  Twang-twang!  Whiz- 
whiz !""  Twang-twang-twang !"  And  "Whiz!  Thud! 
Thud-thud !  "  The  Tontos  were  whooping  and  screech- 
ing and  shooting;  their  daubed  faces  and  flying  hair 
and  naked  bodies  could  be  glimpsed  gyrating  among  the 

60 


HAD  THE  FIRST  VOLLEY  KILLED  ANYBODY?     DIDN'T  LOOK  SO 


THE  CANVAS  SUIT  MAN 

trees ;  their  arrows  whizzed  and  glanced  and  hummed 
and  thudded,  to  the  twanging  of  the  bows.  They  were 
mainly  behind  the  advance  squad,  trying  to  stampede 
the  cavalry  column.  Up  half-rose  Jimmie,  up  half-rose 
Micky,  the  better  to  see.  Had  the  first  volley  killed 
anybody?  Didn't  look  so,  for  not  one  of  the  squad 
was  in  sight;  the  animals  were  rearing  and  snorting, 
but  every  rider  had  instantly  plunged  from  the  saddle 
and  dived  for  a  tree,  gun  in  one  hand  and  reins  in  the 
other. 

That  had  been  quick  and  smart  work.  Lieutenant 
Bourke  and  Lieutenant  Ross  and  Tom  Moore  were 
no  fools ;  and  that  sinewy  man  in  the  canvas  suit  was 
no  fool,  either. 

"Inju!  Bueno!  (Good!  Good!) "chattered Micky, 
in  Apache  and  Spanish  both.  "  Huh !  Tonto  run 
already !  Cowards !  " 

"  Hurrah !  There  come  the  other  soldiers ! "  bab- 
bled Jimmie. 

The  carbines  were  banging,  as  the  first  troop  began 
to  fight — officers  shouted,  the  man  in  the  canvas  suit 
jumped  out,  yelled  orders  and  pointed,  and  leveled  his 
shot-gun — "Bang!"  The  first  troop,  dismounted  to 
the  notes  of  a  bugle,  deployed  on,  firing,  another  troop 
was  spurring  in  at  a  gallop — and  the  Tontos  were  scam- 
pering off  through  the  timber. 

Jimmie  was  just  about  to  spring  upright,  glad,  when 
Micky  nudged  him  hard,  in  warning.  Not  all  the 
Tontos  had  gone.  The  two  who  had  dropped  into  am- 
bush among  the  rocks  at  the  timber  edge  had  been  cut 

61 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

off  by  the  cavalry,  and  were  now  running  hack,  and 
dancing  and  dodging,  their  heads  turned. 

"  Don't  shoot  them !  "  shouted  the  canvas  suit  man, 
in  a  loud  voice.  "  We  have  them !  " 

He  was  running,  too — and  his  officers — and  the 
foremost  of  the  men — from  tree  to  tree,  after  them, 
to  surround  them  at  the  edge  of  the  basin.  The  two 
Tontos  had  crouched,  again,  behind  a  large  boulder. 
Jimmie  might  have  tossed  a  stone  and  struck  them; 
they  were  close  in  front  of  him  and  Micky,  and  fully 
exposed,  against  the  boulder.  But  the  soldiers  had 
formed  a  half  circle,  hemming  them  in  against  the 
basin's  edge.  Up  straightened  the  two  Tontos,  behind 
their  rock,  drew  their  bows  to  the  arrows'  heads,  and 
stood,  at  bay,  aiming  now  here,  now  there,  threatening 
their  enemies. 

"  Don't  shoot  them !  "  the  canvas  suit  man  kept 
shouting.  "Take  them  alive."  And  he  called  to  the 
Tontos :  "  Friends !  Friends !  " 

However,  the  two  Tontos  would  have  none  of  that. 
They  stood  braced,  with  bended  bows,  glaring  from 
tangled  hair,  as  defiant  and  menacing  as  a  coiled  rattle- 
snake. On  a  sudden — "  Twang!" — they  had  loosed 
their  arrows,  and  with  a  single  backward  spring  and 
another  bound  had  disappeared  over  the  edge!  Evi- 
dently they  preferred  death  to  capture — they  certainly 
had  killed  themselves,  for  the  basin  looked  to  be  a  sheer 
drop  of  over  a  thousand  feet. 

Out  bolted  Jimmie  and  ran,  the  better  to  see.  For- 
ward ran  the  canvas  suit  man  and  his  officers  and  the 
soldiers.  And  there  were  the  two  Tontos,  alive  and 

62 


THE  CANVAS  SUIT  MAN 

running,  themselves.  They  were  leaping  and  bounding 
like  rabbits,  from  rock  to  rock  and  landing-place  to 
landing-place  of  the  merest  trail  zigzagging  them, 
almost  straight  up  and  down !  that  must  have  been  the 
trail  which  all  the  Tontos  had  climbed. 

For  a  moment  everybody  was  too  astonished  to 
shoot.  Then — "Bang!"  The  canvas  suit  man  had 
thrown  his  gun  to  his  shoulder,  lightning-quick,  and 
aimed  and  pulled  trigger. 

The  second  of  the  two  Tontos  leaped  aside,  one  arm 
fell  limp,  and  was  dyed  red.  But  he  did  not  slacken. 
Now  "  Bang!  Bang!  Bang-bang!  "  The  soldiers  and 
the  officers-  also  shot  as  fast  as  they  could,  so  that  even 
the  basin  echoed.  They  were  excited,  and  shooting 
down-hill,  the  Tontos  were  leaping  and  dodging  and 
looked  very  small,  not  much  larger  than  coyotes;  and 
as  far  as  anybody  might  see,  not  a  bullet  touched  them. 

Pretty  soon  they  had  plunged  into  the  brush  and 
scrub-oak  chaparral  almost  at  the  bottom  of  the  preci- 
pice; they  had  got  away. 

Jimmie  drew  a  long  breath.  In  the  excitement 
he  had  forgotten  all  about  himself.  Now  he  came  to, 
and  discovered  that  he  was  standing  out  here,  alone, 
on  a  curve  of  the  basin  rim ;  and  that  the  soldiers,  the 
nearest  only  a  few  paces  away,  holding  their  smoking 
carbines  were  surveying  him  keenly.  Some  had  begun 
to  steal  around,  to  head  him  off. 

Naturally  they  took  him  for  an  Apache. 

The  canvats  suit  man  had  seen  as  quickly  as  any  of 
the  soldiers. 

"No  cuidado,  muchacho!   Ven'  aqui!    (Don't  be 

63 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

afraid,  boy!  Come  here!)/'  he  called,  in  Spanish,  to 
Jimmie.  And  added,  in  English,  to  the  soldiers: 
"  Bring  that  boy  in." 

Jimmie  did  not  wait  to  be  brought  in.  He  raised  his 
hand  in  the  "  peace  sign,"  and  ran  forward,  crying: 

"  I'm  not  Apache.  I'm  American.  I'm  Jimmie 
Dunn,  Lieutenant  Bourke!  Hello,  Tom  Moore!  Don't 
you  know  me?" 


V 

JIMMIE  -REPORTS  FOR  DUTY 

"  WELL,  for  goodness5  sake!  " 

Bronzed  Lieutenant  Bourke  stared :  runty  .Packer 
Tom  Moore  gaped  amidst  his  wrinkles ;  everybody 
stood  stock-still,  amazed.  Jimmie's  shrill  announce- 
ment, as  he  ran  in,  created  a  sensation. 

Now  Lieutenant  Bourke  hastened  to  him;  so  did 
Tom  Moore;  so  did  Lieutenant  Ross :  all  the  officers  and 
men  within  hearing  pressed  around  him. 

"  By  gracious,  boy,  we  thought  you  were  a  bleached- 
out  Tonto !  "  exclaimed  Tom. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here?  "  demanded  Lieutenant 
Bourke.  "Pete  Kitchen  said  the  Chiricahuas  had 
you." 

"  They  did,"  answered  Jimmie,  so  glad  to  speak 
English  again.  He  found  the  words  a  little  stiff  on  his 
tongue,  but  he  had  not  forgotten.  "  I  ran  away." 

"  Those  were  Tontos,  weren't  they  ?  How  came 
you  among  the  Tontos  ?  " 

"  I  wasn't  among  'em.    They  didn't  have  me." 

"  Are  you  here  alone  ?  " 

Huh !  Jimmie  looked  around  an  instant ;  he  was  so 
happy  that  he  was  a-tremble.  He  did  not  sight  Micky ; 
the  soldiers  were  covering  the  very  spot  where  he  and 
Micky  had  been  hiding,  but  Micky  was  not  with  them. 
He  had  mysteriously  vanished.  Jimmie  had  promised 
not  to  betray  him,  and  must  keep  his  word. 

"  Yes,  sir."    So  far  as  he  knew  now,  that  was  true. 

6  65 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"  How  long  have  you  been  traveling?  " 

"  Nearly  a  week,  I  guess." 

"Well  if  that  ain't  the  limt!"  exploded  weazened 
Tom  Moore. 

"  You'd  better  report  to  the  general,  Jimmie,"  bade 
Lieutenant  Bourke  kindly.  "General  George  Crook 
— that  man  in  the  canvas  suit.  He's  our  department 
commander  now,  so  don't  omit  to  salute  him.  Come 
along." 

Scanned  by  curious  eyes,  Jimmie  followed  First 
Lieutenant  John  Bourke  to  where  the  man  in  the  canvas 
suit  was  standing  expectant,  his  shot-gun  at  an  order. 

The  lieutenant  saluted,  and  Jimmie  saluted.  That 
was  regulations. 

"  This  boy  is  Jimmie  Dunn,  sir,"  reported  the  lieu- 
tenant. "  He  was  taken  by  the  Chiricahuas  about  a 
year  ago,  while  herding  sheep  on  the  Kitchen  ranch 
south  of  Tucson.  He  says  that  he  has  run  away  from 
them,  and,"  added  the  lieutenant,  with  a  quizzical 
laugh,  "  he  doesn't  want  to  go  back." 

Jimmie  stood  at  attention,  while  General  Crook  eyed 
him.  This,  then,  was  the  new  "  comandante "  of 
whom  Micky  had  spoken.  He  was  a  straight,  square- 
shouldered,  active-looking  man,  as  strong  on  his  feet 
as  any  Apache.  Yes,  he  was  of  a  tall,  muscular  build 
like  Geronimo.  He  was  of  light  complexion,  with 
sandy  hair  and  thin  sandy  moustache,  and  high  fore- 
head, and  from  between  two  very  keen,  gray-blue  eyes 
a  large  sharp  nose  jutted  down  to  a  firm  mouth  set  over 
a  longish,  firm  chin.  He  needed  shaving.  The  hands 
upon  his  shot-gun  were  brown  and  sinewy. 

66 


JIMMIE  REPORTS  FOR  DUTY 

Now  he  queried  abruptly,  military  fashion  but  not 
gruff;  merely  as  though  he  required  a  short  direct 
answer. 

"  What  band  of  Chiricahua?  " 

"  Cochise's  band." 

"  Where  are  they  now?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  sir.     They're  traveling  around." 

"  Where  were  they  when  you  left  them?  " 

"  They  were  in  the  north  part  of  the  Chiricahua 
Mountains,  I  think.  They  were  moving  to  a  new 
camp,  because  of  the  soldiers." 

"  Hah!    Was  Cochise  there?" 

"  No,  sir.  He  was  out  and  so  was  Geronimo.  It 
was  just  the  old  men  and  the  squaws.  Most  of  the 
chiefs  were  in  Mexico,  on  raids." 

"Who  is  Geronimo?" 

"  He's  Go-yath-lay,  the  war  chief." 

"  How  long  ago  did  you  run  away?  " 

"  Five  days,  I  think." 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  get  up  here?  Did  the 
Tonto  have  you  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.     I  was  trying  to  go  to  Camp  Apache." 

"  You  answer  like  a  soldier,  boy.  Are  you  a  sol- 
dier's son?" 

"  No,  sir.  My  mother  and  father  were  killed  by 
the  Apaches,  but  I  lived  with  Joe  Felmer.  He's  post 
blacksmith  for  Camp  Grant." 

"  Lieutenant  Ross  and  Moore  and  I  have  seen  him 
there  often,  general,"  put  in  Lieutenant  Bourke.  "  He 
calls  Joe  Felmer  uncle,  but  they're  not  relations,  as  I 
understand." 

67 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"  No,  sir;  we're  not/'  said  Jimmie.  "  Joe  is  mighty 
good  to  me,  though." 

"Did  the  Chiricahua  treat  you  well?"  asked  the 
general 

"  Yes,  sir;  but  I  don't  like  them." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  And  General  Crook  slightly  smiled. 
When  he  smiled  his  face  was  kind  and  fatherly. 

"  Because  they  wanted  to  make  me  an  Apache,  so 
I'd  help  them  kill  Americans  and  Mexicans  and  steal 
cattle.  They  torture  people.  And  they  killed  Lieu- 
tenant Cushing,  too !  " 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  "  sharply  queried  the 
general. 

"  They  did,  didn't  they,  sir  ?  I  saw  his  shirt.  Taza 
was  wearing  it." 

"  Hum !  "  mused  the  general.  "  Coul4  you  guide 
us  to  the  Cochise  camp,  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  N-no,  sir,"  faltered  Jimmie.  "  You  see,  they 
have  their  own  names  for  places,  and  sometimes  I  was 
in  Mexico  and  sometimes  I  was  in  Arizona,  and  I  got 
all  mixed  up." 

"  I  see,"  admitted  the  general.  "  You  say  you  were 
trying  to  reach  Camp  Apache.  Don't  you  know  that 
this  is  a  long  way  west  of  Camp  Apache?  How  did 
you  happen  to  be  off  here?  " 

"Yes,  sir;  I  know  it,"  replied  Jimmie.  "The 
Chiricahua  might  think  I  was  starting  for  Camp 
Apache,  so  I  tried  to  fool  them.  Then  I  saw  the  Tonto 
trail,  and  then  I  saw  the  soldiers'  trail,  and  I  was 
hurrying  to  catch  you  as  soon  as  the  Tonto  did,  when 
the  Tonto  jumped  out  of  the  basin,  and  I  couldn't  do 

68 


JIMMIE  REPORTS  FOR  DUTY 

anything  but  hide  and  watch.  I  knew  the  soldiers 
would  whip  'em,  though.  Did — did  anybody  get 
killed?" 

"  No,"  said  the  general  grimly.  "  That  will  do," 
he  continued.  "  We've  been  at  Camp  Apache,  and 
can't  take  you  back  there ;  but  we  may  be  able  to  send 
you  down  to  Camp  Grant.  Turn  him  over  to  Mr. 
Moore,  if  you  please,  lieutenant,  and  see  that  he's  out- 
fitted more  like  a  white  boy  and  less  like  an  Indian." 

"Yes,  sir."  Lieutenant  Bourke  saluted;  Jimmie 
rigidly  saluted.  "  Come  with  me,  Jimmie."  And  they 
looked  up  Tom  Moore. 

There  were  two  troops  of  cavalry  and  twenty  pack- 
mules.  Tom  Moore  was  busy,  just  now,  attending  to 
the  pack-train;  and  having  been  left  with  him  Jimmie 
might  gaze  about  and  listen. 

None  of  the  soldiers  had  even  been  wounded,  but 
those  Tontos  certainly  had  shot  hard.  The  general 
and  party  were  examining  a  pine-trunk  into  which  a 
Tonto  arrow  had  buried  itself  clear  to  the  feathers! 
In  several  other  tree  trunks  there  were  arrows  that 
could  not  be  pulled  out.  As  far  as  might  be  discov- 
ered, no  Tontos  had  been  wounded,  except  the  one  shot 
by  the  general.  It  had  been  a  sharp  skirmish,  never- 
theless. 

Micky  Free  had  disappeared.  Not  a  trace  of  him 
was  noted.  Jimmie  loyally  said  not  a  word  about  him, 
and  did  not  see  him  again  for  some  months. 

"  All  right,"  presently  spoke  Tom  Moore.  "  Now, 
boy,  you  can  ride  behind  me,  on  my  hoss,  and  I'll  fix  you 
out  after  we  get  to  camp.  Haven't  time  here." 

60 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

For  the  sun  was  setting  in  a  range  of  mountains 
across  the  big  basin ;  the  basin  itself  was  growing  dark, 
while  the  high  plateau  was  still  bathed  in  the  last  rays; 
and  the  general  had  given  the  order  to  march  and  make 
a  camping-place. 

With  Jimmie  behind  his  saddle,  Tom  rode  in  the 
advance  party.  This  was  composed  of  the  general, 
and  Lieutenant  Bourke  his  aide,  Captain  Brent  and 
Lieutenant  Ross  and  Guide  Archie  Macintosh.  Mr. 
Macintosh  was  a  new  man  from  the  Hudson's  Bay 
country  of  the  Far  North — a  fine  scout  but  not  yet 
acquainted  with  this  part  of  Arizona.  In  fact,  even 
Tom  Moore  had  never  been  through  here.  So  Tom 
was  acting  as  pack-master  and  assistant  guide,  both. 

At  camp  that  evening  Jimmie  was  awarded  an  old 
flannel  shirt  and  pair  of  cotton  trousers.  The  shirt 
belonged  to  Lieutenant  Ross ;  the  trousers  belonged  to 
"  Chileno  John,"  one  of  the  packers.  The  suit  didn't 
fit  very  well,  but  Jimmie  now  felt  more  like  a  white 
boy  again. 

Because  he  was  in  charge  of  Tom  Moore,  his  place 
was  with  the  packers.  They  were  a  merry  set,  around 
their  fires  after  supper :  Charley  Hopkins  and  old  Jack 
Long,  of  Tucson ;  and  "  Hank  'n  Yank  " — who  were 
Hank  Hewitt  and  Yank  Bartlett;  and  "Long"  Jim 
Cook  (who  had  a  brother  "  Short "  Jim  Cook) ;  and 
Jim  O'Neill,  and  "  Chileno  John,"  and  Jose  de  Leon, 
and  Lauriano  Gomez  who  sang  Spanish  songs;  and 
others.  They  looked  rather  rough  and  they  talked 
rather  rough — but  such  stories  they  had,  to  tell,  of 

70 


JIMMIE  REPORTS  FOR  DUTY 

their  adventures  in  California  and  Arizona  and  Mexico, 
and  up  in  British  Columbia! 

The  soldiers  strolled  over,  to  sit  and  listen  and  swap 
yarns.  The  general  and  officers  listened,  too,  now  and 
then,  and  laughed.  Altogether  it  was  a  much  more 
pleasant  camp  than  a  Chiricahua  rancheria. 

According  to  soldiers'  and  packers'  talk  this  Gen- 
eral George  Crook  had  made  a  hit.  He  had  suddenly 
arrived,  last  June,  in  Tucson  by  stage  from  San  Fran- 
cisco, to  take  command  of  the  new  Department  of 
Arizona,  His  regular  rank  was  lieutenant-colonel  in 
the  Twenty-third  Infantry,  but  as  he  had  been  brevetted 
or  given  honorary  rank  of  major-general  for  gallant 
service  in  the  Civil  War,  he  of  course  was  called 
"  General." 

Up  in  the  far  Northwest,  where  he  had  commanded 
the  Department  of  the  Columbia,  he  had  done  such  good 
work  against  the  Shoshones  or  Snakes  that  the  Govern- 
ment had  now  sent  him  down  to  see  what  he  could 
do  with  the  Apaches. 

He  had  set  right  to  work.  "  A  powerful  active 
sort  of  man,"  he  was,  declared  Tom  Moore,  After 
having  questioned  all  the  post  commanders  and  many 
scouts,  about  the  trails  and  other  conditions,  he  had 
started  out  from  Tucson  with  five  companies  of  cavalry 
and  a  company  of  scouts,  both  white  and  red,  and  a 
great  pack-train,  to  make  a  big  circle  of  some  six  hun- 
dred miles:  east  one  hundred  and  ten  miles  to  Camp 
Bowie  at  Apache  Pass  in  the  Chiricahua  Mountains, 
thence  north  two  hundred  miles  across  the  mountains 
to  Camp  Apache  and  the  White  Mountain  reservation, 

71 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

thence  west  two  hundred  and  fifty  or  three  hundred 
miles  to  Fort  Whipple  at  the  town  of  Prescott,  which 
was  the  department  headquarters. 

Lieutenant  Bourke's  Troop  F  of  the  Third  Cavalry 
it  was  which  had  surprised  the  Geronimo  and  Nah-che 
band  and  made  them  leave  their  meat;  and  there  had 
been  other  skirmishes.  At  Camp  Apache  the  general 
had  talked  to  the  White  Mountain  Apaches. 

"  That  man,"  asserted  Tom  Moore,  "  he  cert'inly 
knows  Injun.  He  said  he'd  nothin'  against  the  'Paches ; 
he  wasn't  out  to  war  on  'em,  but  to  get  'em  to  live 
peaceably.  They  could  see  for  themselves  that  the 
white  people  were  crowdin'  into  the  country,  and  that 
pretty  soon  there  wouldn't  be  enough  game  to  live  on. 
So  the  'Pache'd  better  decide  to  settle  down  and  go 
to  farmin'  on  the  land  that  was  given  him.  He'd  be 
protected  from  his  enemies,  and  wouldn't  need  to  steal. 
The  'Paches  who  came  in  peaceful  wouldn't  be  pun- 
ished ;  they'd  be  treated  same  as  white  people ;  but  the 
bad  ones  who  hung  out  would  make  trouble  for  the 
good  ones,  and  he'd  expect  the  good  'Paches  to  help 
him  run  down  the  bad  'Paches.  That  sounded  like 
sense,  and  Pedro  and  the  rest  of  'em  agreed/' 

"  He's  shorely  got  some  pecul'ar  idees,"  com- 
mented old  Jack  Long.  "  For  one  thing,  he  says  an' 
Injun's  as  good  as  a  white  man  an'  some  white  men 
are  wuss'n  Injuns,  'cause  they  know  better.  But  I 
reckon  when  he  says  '  peace  '  he  means  peace,  an'  when 
he  says  '  fight '  he  means  fight.  He  wanted  mightily 
to  ketch  those  two  Tonto  an'  talk  with  'em — an'  when 
they  threw  arrers  at  him  an'  skadoodled,  blamed  if  he 

72 


JIMMIE  REPORTS  FOR  DUTY 

didn't  up  an'  shoot  'em  himself !  Got  the  olive-branch 
in  one  hand  an'  sword  in  t'other,  he  has." 

However,  with  only  these  two  companies  of  cavalry 
and  a  small  pack-train  the  general  was  now  on  his  way 
to  Fort  Whipple,  there  to  wait  and  plan;  for  when 
with  all  his  force  he  had  arrived  at  Camp  Apache,  he 
had  received  dispatches  from  the  War  Department 
directing  him  to  quit  until  the  Government  Peace  Com- 
mission had  tried. 

This  Peace  Commission  had  been  formed  in  1867, 
for  the  purpose  of  seeing  that  the  Indians  were  being 
honestly  treated,  and  of  persuading  them  to  live  upon 
reservations.  President  U.  S.  Grant  was  much  in 
favor  of  such  a  scheme.  The  Indians  of  Arizona  never 
had  been  talked  with,  so  the  President  was  sending 
a  Mr.  Vincent  Colyer,  a  patriotic  and  large-hearted 
New  Yorker,  to  represent  the  Commission  in  the 
Southwest. 

"  That  thar  peace  plan  may  work  with  some  o'  those 
Eastern  Injuns,  but  'twon't  work  with  Taches,"  grum- 
bled old  Jack  Long.  "  They  got  too  much  country 
to  travel  'round  in,  an'  war  is  meat  an*  drink  to  'em. 
They  ain't  been  licked  yet,  an'  till  they're  licked  they'll 
think  the  whites  are  'fraid  of  'em.  They  won't  under- 
stand civilian  peace  talk,  by  a  stranger.  Some  big 
white  chief  ought  to  do  the  talkin'.  An'  now  the 
soldiers  an'  settlers  got  to  sit  back  an'  be  perlite,  so's 
not  to  stir  up  trouble,  an'  Gin'ral  Crook  can't  make 
his  words  good  an'  go  get  the  bad  lots.  'Pache'll  see 
'tain't  any  use  to  stay  on  a  reservation  if  he  can  have 
more  fun  in  the  hills." 

73 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

Jimmie  rather  believed,  himself,  that  Mr.  Colyer  or 
any  stranger  from  the  East,  who  was  not  used  to 
Indians,  would  have  hard  times  "  catching "  the 
Chiricahuas. 

During  the  next  few  days  General  Crook  proved 
to  be  a  most  remarkable  man  indeed.  At  first  sight, 
nobody  would  take  him  for  -a  general  in  the  United 
States  army.  He  wore  no  uniform — just  a  plain  can- 
vas suit ;  he  rode  a  mule,  and  he  preferred  a  shot-gun 
to  a  rifle.  He  was  not  above  talking  to  anybody,  as  he 
chose.  Only  when  you  saw  how  straight  and  decisive 
he  was,  would  you  suspect  him  to  be  a  soldier  and 
an  officer. 

Nothing  was  too  small  for  him  to  notice,  and  noth- 
ing too  hard  for  him  to  do.  He  could  talk  in  the  sign 
language  and  he  could  read  a  trail.  He  could  speak 
Snake  and  Spanish  and  some  Apache;  and  he  knew 
almost  as  much  about  Arizona  as  Tom  Moore  or  Jack 
Long  did.  He  was  up  in  the  morning,  even  by  two 
o'clock,  as  soon  as  the  cooks.  All  day,  as  he  rode  in 
the  advance,  he  constantly  asked  the  names  of  trees  and 
bushes  and  flowers,  and  mountains  and  streams — and 
he  never  forgot.  He  was  a  tremendous  hunter,  and 
could  stuff  the  beasts  and  birds  that  he  killed,  and  he 
had  studied  wild  animals  until  he  could  tell  many 
curious  things  about  them.  He  liked  to  explore  by 
himself,  with  gun  and  fishing-rod,  and  never  was  lost. 
He  drank  only  cold  water — no  tea  or  coffee.  He  could 
do  without  drinking  at  all,  and  without  eating,  either. 
In  fact,  Tom  Moore  and  Archie  Macintosh  agreed,  he 
could  "  out-Injun  the  Injuns  " ! 

74 


JIMMIE  REPORTS  FOR  DUTY 

The  pack-train  was  his  particular  hobby. 

"  He  fetched  a  lot  o'  notions  down  from  Idyho  an* 
Californy,"  explained  old  Jack,  with  wag  of  head;  "  an' 
by  jinks,  he  began  to  tear  things  loose  as  soon  as  he 
struck  Tooson.  Nothin's  too  good  for  the  pack-train. 
Consequence  is,  now  we've  got  critters  an'  men  who'll 
go  anywhar  a  dog'll  go,  an'  be  fresh  for  an'  arly  start 
next  mornin'.  He's  sort  o'  pack-train  daddy,  I  reckon." 

Jimmie  did  not  ride  clear  through  to  Fort  Whipple 
at  Prescott.  At  Camp  Verde,  the  post  fifty  miles  this 
side  of  Whipple,  the  general  sent  off  dispatches  for 
some  of  the  posts  south,  and  told  Jimmie  that  this  was 
a  good  chance  to  reach  Camp  Grant,  where  he  belonged. 

"  But  if  you  do  fight  the  Apaches,  can  I  help?  " 
ventured  Jimmie. 

He  loved  the  bronzed,  lean,  untiring,  wise  General 
Crook,  so  brief  of  speech,  so  kind  in  manner,  so  fatherly 
and  yet  so  soldierly ;  who  quickly  learned  whatever  he 
didn't  happen  to  know  already,  and  who  somehow  got 
things  done  without  any  loud  orders. 

"  I  didn't  come  in  here  to  fight  them,"  smiled  the 
general.  "  I  came  in  to  make  peace.  But  those  who 
won't  make  peace  and  keep  it,  I'll  fight  very  hard — • 
they  may  depend  on  that  also.  I  promised  the  White 
Mountain  Apaches  that  I'd  protect  the  good  Indians 
and  punish  the  bad  ones ;  and  the  only  way  to  control 
Indians  is  to  do  exactly  what  you  promise  to  do.  Now 
we'll  all  have  to  wait  until  Mr.  Colyer  of  the  Peace 
Commission  has  tried.  He'll  give  them  an  oppor- 
tunity to  gather  upon  reservations  and  learn  to  support 
themselves  without  murdering  and  stealing.  A  great 

75 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

deal  of  the  fighting  between  the  Indians  and  the  whites 
has  been  unnecessary,  because  there  are  white  men 
who  don't  believe  in  good  Indians.  You  go  to  your 
friends  at  Camp  Grant.  Learn  all  you  can  about  pack- 
mules  and  soldier  duties,  too,  and  don't  forget  Apache. 
I  haven't  any  doubt  that  some  day  you  can  help  the 
Government  very  much." 

When  at  last  Jimmie  was  delivered  at  Camp  Grant, 
and  set  out  for  Joe  Felmer's  little  ranch,  above,  to  sur- 
prise Joe,  he  met  him  coming  in,  mule  back.  As  a 
result,  Joe  opened  his  whiskered  mouth  widely,  and 
almost  fell  off  his  mule:  for  here  was  Jimmie  Dunn, 
who  had  been  captured  by  the  Apaches  in  mid-summer 
of  1870,  and  now  it  was  the  close  of  August,  1871. 

"  Hello,  black-beard  white  man,"  greeted  Jimmie,  in 
his  best  Apache. 


VI 

THE  PEACE  COMMISSION  TRIES 

"  WALL,  'xpec'  you  want  to  hear  all  the  news  your- 
self/' proposed  "  Uncle "  Joe,  that  evening,  at  the 
ranch,  after  Jimmie  had  told  his  own  story  in  every 
detail. 

"  Yes,  if  you  please,"  answered  Jimmie. 

"  Wall,"  mused  Joe  Felmer,  stroking  his  shaggy 
full  beard,  "  lemme  see.  '  Six-toed '  Button's  been 
kicked  in  the  jaw  by  a  mule,  an'  he's  like  to  go  under. 
The  kick  busted  his  heart,  same  time  it  busted  his  jaw, 
'cause  he  ought  to've  known  better  than  to  get  in  the 
way." 

"  Six-toed  "  Hutton's  real  name  was  Oscar  Hutton. 
He  had  six  toes  on  either  foot,  and  was  one  of  the 
bravest  scouts  at  Camp  Grant.  To  be  killed  by  a  mule 
kick  did  indeed  seem  an  untimely  end  for  a  scout. 

"  Taches  have  been  awful  bad  all  'long  the  line," 
continued  Joe.  "  Chiricahuas  an'  Tontos  an'  Finals 
been  raidin'  the  stage  road  out  o'  Tucson,  both  ways. 
Forty-seven  whites  an'  Mexicans  have  been  killed  down 
thar'bouts,  an'  ten  thousand  dollars'  wuth  o'  property 
burned  or  stolen.  Up  'round  Prescott  the  Hualpais  an' 
Apache-Mohaves  have  corraled  the  mail  rider  an'  run 
ranchers  an'  miners  off.  An'  a  passel  o'  blamed  rascals 
lit  out  with  an  old  mule  from  my  very  pasture — three  of 
'em  at  once  on  her  back,  in  broad  day !  " 

77 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

The  recollection  of  this  evidently  made  "  Uncle  " 
Joe  very  angry  again.  He  paused  to  mumble. 

"  Thar's  a  band  o'  Es-kim-en-zin's  Finals  an'  Ari- 
vaipas  farmin'  on  the  creek  'bout  a  mile  from  Grant," 
he  resumed.  "  Gathered  thar  ag'in  after  that  massacre 
last  spring,  when  those  whites  an'  Mexicans  an'  Papa- 
gos  from  Tucson  way  came  up  an'  wiped  out  'most 
their  women  an'  old  men  an'  stole  their  children. 
Yessir,  killed  over  seventy  squaws  an'  only  eight  bucks, 
some  of  'em  while  asleep,  an'  carried  off  thirty  children. 
Sold  'em  'mongst  the  Mexicans  an'  Papagos,  they  did. 
Now  I  hear  tell  that  the  Government's  sendin'  what  it 
calls  a  '  peace  commissioner/  from  New  Yawk,  to 
fetch  in  other  'Paches  an'  feed  'em  an'  treat  'em  nice. 
Wall,  reckon  he'll  have  his  hands  full." 

Although  Joe  and  others,  soldiers  and  civilians  both, 
at  Camp  Grant,  insisted  that  there  could  be  no  good 
excuse  for  attacking  Indians  who  had  surrendered 
themselves,  the  Tucson  papers  and  people  declared  that 
these  very  Pinals  and  Arivaipas  had  recently  been 
murdering  Americans  and  Mexicans,  and  stealing  stock, 
and  deserved  Indian  punishment  instead  of  white  pro- 
tection. It  would  teach  the  Apaches  a  lesson. 

Of  course,  when  one's  father  and  mother  and 
brothers  and  sisters  have  been  tortured  and  killed  only 
because  they  were  white,  it  is  hard  to  feel  at  all  kindly 
toward  the  race  that  did  it.  Jimmie  knew  how  that 
was.  White  persons'  clothing — the  clothing  of  the 
very  ones  who  had  been  murdered — was  found  in  the 
Pinal  and  Arivaipa  camp.  Still,  for  the  white  people 
to  act  like  Indians,  set  a  bad  example,  if  the  Indians 

78 


THE  PEACE  COMMISSION  TRIES 

were  to  be  shown  that  the  white  way  of  living  was  the 
better  way. 

The  Camp  Grant  massacre  aroused  a  great  cry  in 
the  East.  The  East  sided  with  the  Apaches.  But 
when  he  had  arrived,  Commissioner  Colyer  seemed  to 
be  going  about  with  very  odd  notions.  He  was  re- 
ported as  thinking  that  the  Apaches  were  only  a  poor 
ignorant  race,  who  had  been  robbed  of  their  lands 
and  forced  into  war  by  the  whites,  and  that  they  ought 
to  be  met  with  kindness  alone.  Then  they  would  be 
peaceable.  The  Tucson  Citizen  asserted  that  he  ad- 
vised the  Arizona  people  to  avoid  trouble  by  getting 
out  of  the  Indians'  way.  And  the  Citizen  and  the  Pres- 
cott  Miner  published  hot,  sarcastic  articles  about  him 
and  the  Peace  Policy.  The  Apaches  were  being  re- 
ferred to  as  "  Colyer's  babes  "  and  "  Colyer's  pets." 

"  What's  that  ?  "  growled  Joe.  "  Thinks  the  Chiri- 
cahuas  an'  Tontos  don't  know  any  better'n  to  hang 
folks  up  by  their  heels  over  a  slow  fire,  does  he  ?  An* 
that  we  ought  to  call  off  the  troops  an'  get  off  our 
ranches,  so  we  won't  be  irritatin'  the  Injuns?  Then 
they'd  come  in  of  themselves,  to  be  civilized !  Jest  why 
the  'Paches  who  can  live  by  fightin'  an'  stealin'  as  they 
please  will  want  to  live  by  ploughin',  I'd  like  to  hear. 
This  is  part  o'  the  United  States,  an'  the  white  people 
are  jest  as  much  entitled  to  protection  as  the  ' Paches 
are." 

Camp  Grant  was  a  four-  or  five-company  post 
located  here  in  a  desert  basin  where  the  valley  of  the 
Arivaipa  Creek,  from  the  east,  and  of  the  San  Pedro 
River,  from  the  south,  joined.  The  San  Pedro  was 

79 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

supposed  to  flow  on  north,  for  a  few  miles,  to  the 
Gila  River ;  but  it  and  the  Arivaipa  were  only  dry  sand- 
beds  during  the  greater  part  of  the  year. 

Camp  Grant  was  not  a  pretty  place;  it  was  only  a 
hollow  square  of  clay  or  log  huts  and  ragged  tents, 
shaded  in  front  by  brush  porches  or  ramadas. 

Against  it  beat  the  sand-storms  in  the  spring  and 
the  blazing  sun  throughout  nine  months  of  the  year — 
temperature,  one  hundred  and  twenty  in  the  shade ! 
The  giant  cactuses,  instead  of  trees,  were  many  and 
extra  large — and  so  were  the  rattle-snakes,  scorpions 
and  centipedes.  And  the  Apache  had  always  been 
extra  bold. 

One  never  might  foresee  what  was  about  to  occur, 
at  Camp  Grant.  On  some  days  it  would  be  perfectly 
quiet,  with  only  the  sentries  walking  their  hot  beats, 
and  the  tame  Indians  squatting  out  of  the  sun;  and 
again  there  would  be  a  sudden  running  to  and  fro, 
and  away  would  trot  the  cavalry,  to  rescue  (if  possible) 
a  wagon  train,  and  pursue  the  hostiles. 

In  a  few  days,  at  best,  but  likely  enough  not  until 
after  a  week  or  more,  back  the  troopers  would  come, 
maybe  with  wounded,  maybe  with  prisoners,  but  in  any 
case  all  fagged  out,  both  men  and  horses. 

Joe  Felmer's  little  ranch  lay  three  miles  south, 
up  the  San  Pedro.  As  Joe  was  post  blacksmith,  and 
also  sold  ranch  stuff  to  the  quartermaster,  Jimmie  felt 
as  though  he  belonged  to  the  post,  himself.  He  knew 
all  the  officers,  and  old  Sergeants  Warfield  and  John 
Mott,  and  others  of  the  men ;  and  "  Six-toed,"  and 
Antonio  Besias  the  former  Mexican  captive  of  the 


THE  PEACE  COMMISSION  TRIES 

Apaches,  and  Conception  Equierre  the  half -Apache 
interpreter,  and  old  Santos  the  short-legged  Aripaiva 
ex-chief  who  was  Chief  Es-kim-en-zin's  father-in-law; 
and  many  more. 

When  he  had  left,  last  year,  Grant  had  been  occu- 
pied by  some  of  the  First  and  the  Third  Cavalry;  but 
they  had  been  transferred,  Lieutenant  Cushing's  and 
Lieutenant  Bourke's  Troop  K  of  the  Third  had  been 
sent  down  to  Camp  Lowell  near  Tucson,  and  now  the 
Fifth  Cavalry  was  here. 

It  was  in  October  when  Commissioner  Colyer,  on 
his  rounds,  appeared  at  Camp  Grant.  Jimmie  was 
lucky  enough  to  drive  down  there,  with  Joe  and  a 
wagon-load  of  pumpkins,  just  in  time  to  be  present 
at  some  of  the  "  doings." 

Mr.  Colyer  had  arrived  in  a  six-mule  army  ambu- 
lance (a  black,  covered  spring  wagon  with  high  driver's 
seat,  and  two  bench-like  seats  inside,  facing  each  other) , 
escorted  by  a  squad  of  cavalry  from  Fort  Whipple, 
under  Lieutenant  Ross. 

He  was  a  square-set,  benevolent-looking  gentleman, 
in  dusty  black  broadcloth,  and  white  shirt  and  broad 
black  hat.  Attended  by  Colonel  F.  W.  Crittenden,  the 
post  commander,  and  by  other  officers,  he  had  been 
talking,  through  Concepcion  the  interpreter,  to  the  tame 
Apaches  at  the  post,  and  he  was  about  to  go  out  to 
Chief  Es-kim-en-zin's  rancheria,  where  the  surrendered 
Finals  and  Arivaipas  were  farming. 

"  They  are  the  same  people  who  were  so  barbar- 
ously attacked  last  spring,  I  understand,"  he  remarked. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Lieutenant  Royal  Whitman. 

6  81 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"  You  were  in  charge  of  the  post  then,  were  you 
not?" 

"  I  was.  But  before  I  could  reach  their  camp  the 
deed  had  been  done.  I  think  you  will  see  by  my  report 
upon  the  matter,  to  the  Department,  how  I  feel  about 
it.  It  was  a  thorough  outrage,  and  the  members  of  the 
attacking  party  ought  to  be  arrested,  tried  and 
punished." 

"  Quite  true,"  uttered  Mr.  Colyer.  "  A  shocking 
state  of  affairs  exists  through  the  whole  Territory.  All 
the  Indians  with  whom  I  have  talked  declare  that  they 
would  gladly  gather  upon  reservations,  accept  the  Gov- 
ernment's aid,  and  live  at  peace  with  mankind,  if  the 
soldiery  and  white  citizens  would  only  cease  hunting 
them  down.  Some  of  the  bands  are  so  frightened  and 
timid  that  they  won't  confer  even  with  me,  their  friend. 
I've  tried  in  vain  to  meet  Chief  Cochise,  of  the  Chirica- 
huas.  You  can  see,  my  brothers,"  he  continued,  ad- 
dressing the  group  of  soldiers  and  scouts  and  tame 
Apaches,  "  what  an  injustice  has  been  done  these  simple 
savages.  Our  duty  is  not  to  punish  them  for  defending 
their  homes,  but  to  gain  their  good-will  by  patience 
and  kindness,  until  they  are  won  to  the  benefits  of 
civilization.  That  is  why  the  President  and  the  Society 
of  Friends  have  delegated  me  to  visit  among  you,  and 
bring  this  bad  feeling  between  the  white  men  and  the 
red  men  to  an  end." 

"'  Simple  savages/  are  they?"  afterwards  com- 
mented Joe.  "If  thar's  anybody  smarter'n  an  Apache 
in  sizin'  things  up,  I've  yet  to  find  him.  At  present 
this  hyar  Quaker  strikes  me  as  bein'  'bout  the  simplest 

82 


THE  PEACE  COMMISSION  TRIES 

pusson  in  Arizony.  The  Taches  can  understand 
straight  talk,  like  that  Gen'ral  Crook  gave  'em,  an* 
they  can  understand  war;  but  they  don't  understand 
coaxin'.  When  you  coax  a,  Tache  he  laughs  in  his 
insides  an'  reckons  he'll  do  as  he  pleases  as  long  as 
he  can.  Once  you  coax  him,  then  he  thinks  you're 
'fraid  of  him,  'cause  that's  Injun  way." 

Mr.  Colyer  was  driven  out  to  the  Chief  Es-kim-en- 
zin  camp,  where  he  talked  with  old  Santos  and  the 
chief,  and  others  of  the  Finals  and  Arivaipas.  He 
informed  them  that  the  Great  White  Father  at  Wash- 
ington would  see  to  it  that  they  were  no  longer  ill- 
treated  by  the  white  men.  All  the  Apaches  might  come 
in  and  live  on  the  lands  that  the  Government  was  giving 
them.  They  should  have  plenty  to  eat,  and  the  white 
men  who  interfered  should  be  punished. 

When  he  returned  to  the  post  he  acted  much  satis- 
fied. He  arranged  to  have  a  regular  reservation  set 
off,  and  said  that  an  agent  and  teacher  would  be  ap- 
pointed, by  the  Society  of  Friends.  Soon  he  left,  with 
his  escort,  to  continue  his  tour. 

While  nobody  might  doubt  that  Mr.  Colyer  was  a 
very  good  and  honest  man,  nobody  put  much  faith 
in  his  methods.  After  having  fought  and  raided  all 
summer,  many  of  the  wild  Apaches  would  be  only  too 
willing  to  be  fed  and  protected  upon  the  reservations, 
all  winter. 

Now  the  Indians  of  Arizona  seemed  to  be  provided 
for — except  that  Commissioner  Colyer  had  not  been 
able  to  find  any  Chiricahuas.  He  had  sent  word  to 
them,  but  they  had  hidden  from  him.  And  when  in 

83 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

western  New  Mexico  he  had  stopped  at  the  Canada 
Alamosa,  or  Cotton  wood  Canyon,  where  Chief  Vic- 
torio's  friendly  Mimbres  and  Warm  Spring  Apaches 
were  living,  the  most  of  them  had  run  from  his  soldier 
escort.  They  liked  their  Cottonwood  Canyon,  and 
feared  that  they  were  to  be  removed. 


VII 

JIMMIE  TAKES  A  LESSON 

"  MICKY  FREE!" 

Jimmie  almost  shouted  it,  he  was  so  astonished. 
He  was  again  at  the  post,  on  an  errand  for  Joe  Felmer, 
after  Commissioner  Colyer  had  been  gone  about  a 
week;  and  who  should  come  trotting  across  the  hot 
gravelly  parade  ground  but  Micky  Free  himself,  in 
single  file  with  two  strange  Indians ! 

Micky's  one  quick  eye  sighted  Jimmie,  standing 
agape,  and  he  fell  out  of  line  and  pattered  over, 
grinning. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Boy-who-sleeps  ?  "  he  said,  in 
Apache. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Red-head  ?  "  answered  Jimmie. 
"  I  am  glad  to  see  you." 

Micky  wore  a  loose,  whitish  cotton  shirt  with  its 
tails  outside  ragged  cotton  trousers,  and  on  his  feet 
Apache  moccasins.  A  white  cloth  band  was  around 
his  red  head,  his  one  blue  eye  beamed  alertly,  and  his 
freckled  face  was  streaked  with  perspiration  and  dust. 
All  that  he  carried  was  an  Apache  fiddle  made  from 
a  bent  rib  of  a  yucca,  strung  with  deer  sinews. 

The  two  Indians  with  him  were  stripped  to  breech- 
clout  aprons,  and  moccasins,  and  red  flannel  head- 
bands ;  one  of  them  had  rawhide  shield  and  long  lance, 
the  other,  bow  and  quiver.  They  had  continued  on  and 
now  had  been  stopped  before  the  adjutant's  office  by 
the  orderly. 

85 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"  Let  us  sit  down  and  talk,  Cheemie,"  laughed 
Micky. 

So  he  and  Jimmie  squatted. 
"  What  are  you  doing,  Micky  ?  " 

"  I  have  come  over  from  Camp  Apache  with  two 
White  Mountain  runners.  They  bring  messages  from 
that  fort  to  this  one.  We  came  through  in  one  day 
and  two  nights.  It  is  more  than  one  hundred  miles. 
Have  you  heard  the  news,  Cheemie?  " 

"  What  news,  Micky?" 

"  Cochise  says  he  wants  peace.  He  has  gone  on 
the  Ojo  Caliente  (Warm  Spring)  place,  in  the  Canada 
Alamosa,  where  Chief  Victorio  is." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  exclaimed  Jimmie.  This 
was  great  news. 

"  I  got  it  from  Maria  Jilda,  the  Mexican  who  was 
captured  when  you  were  captured.  He  came  up  to 
Camp  Apache  from  the  Apache  Pass  where  Camp 
Bowie  is.  He  escaped  from  the  Chiricahua,  and  now 
he  is  an  interpreter  at  Camp  Bowie.  Yes,  Cheemie; 
Cochise  and  Geronimo  and  all  that  band  have  gone  to 
live  with  their  brothers  the  Warm  Springs  and  the 
Mimbrenos  at  the  Canada  Alamosa  on  the  Rio  Grande 
River  in  New  Mexico.  But,"  added  Micky,  wisely, 
"  they  will  not  stay." 

"  Don't  they  want  peace?  "  queried  Jimmie.  "  Did 
they  listen  to  the  words  of  the  white  peace  man?  " 

"  That  white  peace  man  in  the  black  clothes  ? " 
demanded  Micky  scornfully.  "No.  The  Apaches 
laugh  at  that  white  peace  man.  It  is  easy  to  lie  to 
him.  The  wild  Apache  think  he  promises  so  much 

86 


JIMMIE  TAKES  A  LESSON 

because  the  Americans  are  afraid  of  them.  The 
Cochise  people  are  hungry  and  winter  is  near  and  the 
soldiers  have  been  fighting  them  hard.  They  hear  that 
Victorio  is  being  fed  and  has  plenty  of  clothes  and 
guns.  They  can  rest  there  until  they  are  ready  to 
take  the  trail  again.  What  are  you  doing,  Cheernie? 
Do  you  like  the  new  American  general?  I  saw  him 
shoot  that  Tonto.  He  is  a  good  shot.  Afterwards 
I  found  the  Tonto.  He  was  dead.  Then  I  went  to  the 
White  Mountains,  at  Camp  Apache." 

"  I  am  living  with  Joe  Felmer,  on  his  ranch.  He 
is  a  scout,  and  he  works  at  the  post,  too,"  informed 
Jimmie.  "  The  general  sent  me  home,  but  he  told  me 
to  learn  all  the  soldier  ways  I  could,  and  not  to  forget 
Apache  talk.  If  I'm  not  old  enough  to  be  a  scout,  I 
can  help  with  the  pack-trains." 

"  I  shall  be  a  scout,"  nodded  Micky.  "  That  is  why 
I  have  come  out  with  the  runners :  to  learn  the  country. 
He  is  a  great  general,  that  man  Crook.  Chief  Pedro 
and  old  Miguel  liked  his  talk.  It  is  true  that  if  some 
of  the  Apaches  stay  bad,  the  good  Apaches  will  suffer  by 
it.  They  will  be  watched  closely  and  cannot  do  things 
they  would  do  if  all  the  Apaches  were  trusted.  So 
Chief  Pedro  and  the  White  Mountains  will  help  the 
new  general  who  talks  straight.  It  is  this  way, 
Cheemie — I  have  heard  Pedro  and  old  Miguel  and 
Pi-to-ne  and  all,  say  so:  As  long  as  there  are  any 
wild  Chiricahua  and  Tonto,  there  will  be  trouble  be- 
tween the  red  men  and  the  white  men,  in  Arizona. 
We  must  kill  the  bad  Apaches.  Then  the  good 
Apaches  can  live  at  peace  and  get  rich.  In  the  spring 

87 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

the  new  general  must  begin  to  fight,  because  by  then 
the  Chiricahua  will  be  rested  up." 

The  two  Apache  runners  or  dispatch-bearers  came 
back  from  the  adjutant's  office.  Their  names,  as  told 
by  Micky,  were  Alchise  (Alchisay)  and  Nah-kay-do- 
klunni.  They  both  were  Sierra  Blanca — White  Moun- 
tain Apaches.  They  and  Micky  were  taken  by  Antonio 
Besias  the  interpreter  to  be  given  coffee  and  bread; 
and  as  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  said,  Jimmie  went 
about  his  own  business.  He  knew  that  he  would  see 
Micky  Free  again,  somewhere.  Micky  was  that  kind. 

Although  Chief  Cochise  and  War-Captain  Gero- 
nimo  had  moved  with  their  band  of  Chiricahuas  upon 
the  Cottonwood  Canyon  reservation  near  Fort  Craig 
in  southwestern  New  Mexico,  and  Commissioner  Col- 
yer  had  been  so  confident  that  all  his  Indians  were  about 
to  gather  upon  their  reservations,  the  white  people  of 
Arizona  had  no  faith  in  this  peace  policy. 

Almost  every  copy  of  the  Tucson  Citizen  and  the 
Prescott  Miner  received  by  Joe  Felmer  or  at  Camp 
Grant  contained  accounts  of  Apache  attacks  upon  set- 
tlers and  miners  and  soldiers,  by  the  Tontos  and  the 
Apache-Mohaves,  and  the  Chiricahuas  raiding  up  from 
Mexico. 

The  Miner  published  a  list  of  three  hundred  Ameri- 
cans and  Mexicans  who  had  been  killed  by  the  Apaches 
from  1864  to  the  present  time,  October  14,  1871. 

Toward  the  end  of  November  the  worst  news  yet, 
arrived.  A  band  of  "  Colyer's  babes/'  thought  to  be 
Apache-Mohaves,  had  attacked  the  stage  near  Wicken- 
burg,  south  of  Prescott,  and  murdered  the  driver  and 

88 


JIMMIE  TAKES  A  LESSON 

five  passengers.  Three  of  these  passengers  were  mem- 
bers of  the  Government  surveying  expedition  which, 
under  Lieutenant  George  Wheeler,  of  the  U.  S.  Engi- 
neers, had  been  exploring  through  Nevada  and  Ari- 
zona, getting  facts  upon  the  mines  and  the  country. 
The  name  of  one  was  Fred  Loring — a  well-educated, 
especially  fine  young  surveyor,  from  Washington. 

This  attack,  said  the  papers,  ought  to  convince 
the  Government  that  the  Apaches  of  Arizona  were 
far  from  "  civilized."  These  very  Indians  had  been 
living  "  peaceably  "  upon  one  of  Commissioner  Colyer's 
tracts,  where  they  were  protected. 

Lieutenant  Wheeler  and  his  main  party  commanded 
by  Lieutenant  David  A.  Lyle  of  the  Second  Artillery, 
with  an  escort  of  the  Third  Cavalry  (Company  I),  sup- 
plied by  the  Department  of  California,  rode  into  Camp 
Grant  only  a  few  days  after  the  word  of  the  Wicken- 
burg  Massacre  had  been  received. 

They  were  on  their  way  from  Camp  Apache  to 
Tucson ;  had  been  exploring  since  the  middle  of  May, 
and  were  pretty  well  worn  out.  They  had  found  many 
of  the  Indians  met  to  be  rude  and  insolent,  but 

"  No,  they  never  attacked  us,"  said  Lieutenant  Lyle. 
"  And  now,  to  think  that  they've  killed  poor  Loring, 
when  he  was  all  through  and  was  going  home!  He 
had  his  hair  cut  very  short,  on  his  road  out,  and  laughed 
when  he  claimed  that  the  Apaches  would  never  be  able 
to  take  his  scalp." 

"  One  drop  of  that  fine  young  man's  blood  was 
worth  more  to  the  United  States  than  the  whole  Apache 
race  is,"  declared  Lieutenant  Wheeler.  "  In  my  opin- 

89 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

ion,  the  peace  policy  of  forbidding  a  military  campaign 
that  shall  drive  the  Apaches  in  upon  the  reservations  is 
encouraging  them  to  commit  such  outrages.  The  In- 
dian question  in  Arizona  will  never  be  settled  until  the 
campaigns  of  an  energetic  officer  shall  thoroughly  whip 
and  subdue  them." 

"  And  Crook's  that  man/'  asserted  Chief  Packer 
Tom  Moore,  who  was  over  from  Fort  Whipple,  on  a 
trip  around  to  inspect  pack-train  outfits.  "  We've  had 
other  gen'rals  in  Arizony.  Some  of  'em  did  too  much 
— took  ev'ry  scalp  they  could  ketch.  Some  of  'em  did  too 
little — reg'lar  coffee-coolers.  But  this  Gen'ral  Crook, 
gentlemen,  he's  goin'  to  know  for  himself  whether  a 
Tache's  good  or  bad.  The  good  ones  he'll  treat  square, 
and  the  bad  ones  he'll  trail  down  till  he  has  their 
tongues  hangin'  out.  Now  he's  just  lyin'  low,  till 
the  Government's  got  plumb  sick  o*  these  '  Colyer's 
babes,'  and  he  has  orders.  If  I  don't  miss  my  guess, 
next  spring  the  Arizony  hills'll  be  full  o'  soldiers  and 
pack-trains,  and  tame  'Paohes  fightin'  wild  'Paches,  and 
Crook  bossin'  us  all  from  the  saddle." 

Tom  Moore  and  others  from  Fort  Whipple  brought 
word  that  General  Crook  kept  very  active.  He  seemed 
to  have  no  idea  of  resting.  He  was  constantly  travel- 
ing, by  mule  and  buck-board  wagon,  over  the  roads 
and  trails  of  northern  Arizona,  learning  them  as  he 
had  learned  the  trails  of  southern  Arizona.  Usually 
he  traveled  with  only  Lieutenant  Bourke,  who  was  his 
aide-de-camp,  and  a  cook  and  a  packer,  for  he  did  not 
wish  to  use  officers  and  men  who  should  be  ready  for 
scouting  expeditions.  He  issued  orders  that  the  pack- 

90 


JIMMIE  TAKES  A  LESSON 

train  outfits  should  be  prepared  at  top  notch.  It  was 
plain  to  be  seen  that  he  expected  to  go  upon  a  hard  cam- 
paign as  soon  as  the  Peace  Policy  had  been  tried  and 
had  failed. 

Jimmie  decided  that  his  best  chance  of  taking  the 
trail  with  this  active  General  Crook  lay  with  the  pack- 
trains;  even  a  boy  might  be  useful  in  the  pack-trains; 
he  could  catch  mules  and  pull  on  ropes  and  help  the  cook 
— and  if  he  spoke  Apache,  like  Jimniie  did,  and  knew 
lots  of  Apache  tricks,  he  might  'be  valuable  as  an  inter- 
preter, sometimes.  Besides,  Joe  Felmer  was  a  scout 
and  a  horse-shoer  both,  and  he  surely  would  be  ordered 
out.  Jimmie  intended  not  to  be  left  at  home. 

Luckily,  he  had  plenty  of  opportunity  this  fall  and 
winter  to  learn  pack-train  wrinkles.  For  the  practice 
that  it  gave  the  men,  as  well  as  because  it  was  the  better 
method,  the  general  distributed  the  supplies  to  all  the 
posts  by  means  of  pack-mules. 

Before  he  had  assumed  command,  the  supplies  out 
of  Tucson  and  Prescott  had  been  hauled  largely  by 
wagons  in  charge  of  "  bull  whackers "  and  "  mule 
skinners,"  and  operated  by  civilian  contractors,  who 
made  freighting  their  business.  Of  course,  pack-mules 
had  been  necessary,  too,  with  scouting  columns  and 
between  out-of-the-way  posts ;  and  the  miners,  and  the 
Mexican  merchants  and  traders  from  Sonora  of 
Mexico,  employed  pack-mules. 

But  in  his  campaigns  against  the  Indians,  in  Idaho 
and  Oregon  and  Northern  California,  the  general  had 
depended  entirely  upon  pack-mule  trains,  which  kept 
right  up  with  the  marches,  no  matter  how  rough  the 

91 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

country,  and  were  always  on  hand.  According  to  the 
say  of  old  Jack  Long, "  he  had  got  pack-mule  wise."  He 
had  persuaded  the  War  Department  to  buy  three  full 
pack-trains  from  their  civilian  owners  who  had  hired 
them  out  to  the  Government ;  and  these  he  had  brought 
to  Arizona  with  him. 

"  He's  the  daddy  o'  the  army  mule,  I  reckon," 
again  declared  Jack.  "  Yes,  siree !  Those  thar  mules 
ain't  nary  sore-backed  Sonora  rats,  an*  they  ain't 
bags  o'  bones  so  high  up  you  have  to  use  a  ladder  to 
put  a  pack  on  with.  They're  picked  stock;  an'  every 
other  mule's  got  to  measure  up  to  same  standard. 
Gosh  durn  it,  I  b'lieve  the  gin'ral  thinks  as  much  of 
his  mules  as  he  does  of  his  men!  He  looks  as  close 
arter  glanders  as  he  does  arter  measles ! " 

However,  the  general  looked  after  the  men  pretty 
close,  too.  The  packers  themselves  had  to  measure  up 
to  standard.  Those  who  were  drunken,  or  lazy,  or 
cruel  to  the  mules,  were  discharged,  and  better  men 
enlisted.  Henceforward  the  pack-train  service  was  to 
be  known  as  "  Pack  Transportation,  Q.  M.  D.  (Quar- 
termaster's Department),  U.  S.  Army,"  and  to  belong 
to  it  would  be  an  honor. 

Yes,  a  responsibility,  also;  for  as  old  Jack  ex- 
plained :  "  When  you  get  up  in  the  mountings  'mongst 
the  Taches,  an'  you're  out  o'  ammunition  an'  the  pack- 
train's  got  busted  somewhars  in  the  next  county,  then 
what's  your  scalp  wuth  ?  Nothin' !  " 

Jimmie  might  think  himself  lucky  in  having  old 
Jack  Long  at  Camp  Grant,  to  give  him  pointers.  Joe 
Felmer  was  a  scout  and  rancher ;  he  did  not  claim  to  be 

92 


JIMMIE  TAKES  A  LESSON 

an  expert  mule  packer.  But  old  Jack  had  been  a 
Forty-niner  in  California,  and  had  mined  and  packed 
all  through  California  and  Oregon  and  Idaho  and 
Nevada  and  Arizona.  So  he  knew  a  great  deal. 

Jack  had  had  two  wives,  one  a  Modoc  squaw  and 
one  a  white  woman;  and  once  he  had  "  struck  it  rich," 
in  California,  and  had  been  almost  a  millionaire  until 
he  had  spent  his  money.  Lately  he  had  been  living  in 
Tucson,  freighting  and  prospecting.  There  he  had 
"  j'ined  Gin'ral  Crook  ag'in  the  Taches." 

Now  Chief  Packer  Tom  Moore  had  appointed  him 
to  be  a  pack-master.  The  chief  packer  had  charge 
of  all  the  pack-trains,  and  each  pack-train  was  in 
charge  of  its  pack-master. 

"Want  to  j'ine  the  pack  trains,  do  ye?"  queried 
old  Jack,  of  Jimmie.  "  Wall,  if  you're  goin*  to  Tarn, 
you  oughter  Tarn  right,  an*  some  day  mebbe  you'll 
be  in  the  Fust-class  Packer  ratin'.  Mebbe  you'll  get 
to  be  as  big  a  man  as  I  am.  'Tain't  all  in  throwin' 
the  diamond ;  anybody  can  1'arn  to  throw  the  diamond 
hitch.  But  you  got  to  know  the  why  an'  wharf  ore 
o'  things.  Come  along  to  the  corral  an'  I'll  show  ye." 

So  Jimmie  gladly  followed  Jack  to  the  post  mule- 
corral. 

"  Hey,  thar,  amigo  (friend)  !  "  summoned  old  Jack, 
to  Chileno  John,  who  was  at  work  among  the  mules. 
"  Veri  aqui  (Come  here).  Fetch  out  one  o'  yore 
bell  sharps.  Hyar's  a  muchacho  (boy)  who  wants  to 
1'arn  to  be  an  arriero  (muleteer)." 

Smiling  broadly,  swarthy  Chileno  John  (who  was 
supposed  to  have  worked  in  the  mines  of  Chile)  led 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

aside  a  sedate,  round-bellied,  mouse-colored  mule,  and 
lugged  the  pack  material  for  her  into  position. 

"  That  thar,"  said  Jack  ,"  is  a  bell  sharp.  If  you 
don't  know  what  a  bell  sharp  is,  I'll  tell  ye.  A  bell 
sharp  is  a  pack-mule  that's  been  eddicated  into  mule 
sense,  so  she  keeps  her  place  in  line,  an'  doesn't  stray 
on  herd,  an'  comes  in  to  her  own  feed  canvas  at  f eedin' 
time.  When  she  ain't  a  *  bell  sharp '  she's  a  pesky 
'  shave-tail.'  As  long  as  a  mule  hasn't  got  sense  an'  is 
alluz  rampagin'  an'  makin'  trouble  we  jest  natter'ly 
roach  her  mane  an'  keep  her  tail  trimmed  to  about  six 
ha'rs  on  the  end  so's  to  pick  her  out  of  a  bunch  at 
fust  sight.  Same  way,"  grumbled  old  Jack,  "  'mongst 
these  hyar  army  officers.  That  thar  sprig  young 
Left'nant  Stewart,  fresh  out  o'  West  Point,  who 
doesn't  know  any  better  yet'n  to  climb  a  cactus  tree,  he's 
a  '  shave  tail ' ;  but  old  Cap  Tommy  Byrne,  up  'mongst 
the  Hualpais  near  the  Canyon,  he's  a  sure  'nough  '  bell 
sharp '  who  knows  when  to  come  in  to  his  feed." 

Jimmie  had  not  seen  Captain  Thomas  Byrne,  a 
grizzled  Civil  War  veteran  who,  reports  stated,  was 
regarded  as  a  "  father  "  by  the  Hualpai  Indians  on  the 
Beale  Springs  reservation  near  the  Grand  Canyon. 
But  he  felt  pretty  well  acquainted  with  Second  Lieu- 
tenant Reid  T.  Stewart,  the  slim-waisted,  boyish,  eager 
young  officer  who  had  graduated  from  the  Military 
Academy  only  last  June  and  had  been  assigned  to  the 
Fifth  Cavalry  in  Arizona.  He  was  stationed  down  at 
Camp  Lowell,  Tucson,  and  Jimmie  had  got  acquainted 
with  him  there  and  here  at  Grant,  also.  He  might  be 
a  "  shave  tail,"  yet,  according  to  Jack,  but  he  was  much 

94 


JIMMIE  TAKES  A  LESSON 

more  pleasant  than  some  of  those  crusty  old  "  bell 
sharps." 

"What's  General  Crook,  then?"  queried  Jimmie, 
to  get  Jack's  opinion. 

'The  gin'ral.  See  hyar,  me  son,"  reproved  Jack 
severely :  "  no  levity.  The  gin'ral's  the  old  bell  hoss 
o'  the  hull  outfit  Wall,"  continued  Jack,  "fust,  one 
of  us  blinds  the  critter  with  a  bandage  o'  sackin'  or 
with  one  o'  those  leather  contraptions  the  gin'ral's 
interduced,  so  she'll  stand.  Then  havin'  got  all  the 
riggin'  to  hand,  we  lay  on  this  sweat-cloth,  for  which 
proper  name  is  suadera,  an'  a  saddle-blanket  or  two 
for  more  paddin',  'less  we  have  a  reg'lar  corona,  the 
same  bein'  the  blankets  an'  the  suadera  stitched  to- 
gether. Then  atop  that  we  fold  the  bed  blanket  that 
we  got  to  sleep  under  at  camp.  Then  we  h'ist  on  the 
aparejo — this-a-way,  easy — an'  settle  it,  an'  pass  the 
grupera  back." 

The  aparejo  (ah-pah-ray-ho)  was  the  pack-saddle 
— a  long,  broad  mattress  of  canvas  stuffed  with  hay, 
and  stiffened  with  ribs  of  willow  stems  running  up  and 
down,  in  either  half.  It  was  broken  in  the  middle,  so 
that  it  would  fit  over  the  mule's  back. 

The  grupera  (gru-pay-rah)  was  the  crupper — a 
broad  canvas  and  leather  band  that  extended  in  a  loop 
around  the  mule's  haunches  under  her  tail,  so  that  the 
aparejo  could  not  slip  forward. 

"Then  we  lay  the  aparejo  cincha  so  to  hang  acrost 
the  middle,  pass  the  ring  end  under  her  belly,  connect 
up  with  the  latigo  strap  and  all  together  draw  tighter'n 
sin  so's  to  hold  the  aparejo  in  place." 

95 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

The  aparejo  cincha  was  another  canvas  band,  like 
a  woven  saddle-cinch.  It  was  long  enough  to  reach 
across  under  the  mule's  belly.  One  end  terminated  in 
a  ring  and  the  other  end  in  a  leather  strap,  the  latigo; 
and  by  connecting  the  ring  and  strap  the  cincha  was 
drawn  tight. 

"  You  have  omitted  to  explain  this,  Sefior  Jack," 
reminded  Chileno  John,  resting  a  sinewy  brown  hand 
upon  the  pack-saddle  or  aparejo;  and  he  lifted  the  flap 
that  hung  down  on  either  side. 

"  That  thar  soldier  hammer? "  grunted  Jack. 
"  Wall,  me  son,  every  aparejo  has  a  duck  kivver 
attached  to  its  middle,  so's  to  protect  it  from  bein' 
cut  by  the  ropes — an*  from  weather,  too.  It's  got  a 
wooden  brace  sewed  in  leather  'crost  each  end,  yuh 
understan',  to  stiffen  it  whar  the  cincha  lays,  so's  it 
won't  wrinkle  ag'in  the  mule's  hide." 

ff  Sobre-en-j almas  is  the  correct  name,  muchacho," 
said  Chileno  John,  to  Jimmie,  with  some  dignity — for 
Chileno  John  took  great  pride  in  the  Spanish  lan- 
guage. "  It  is  a  very  old  name,  descended  to  us  from 
the  ancient  Moors  of  Spain.  Sobre-en-j almas — cover 
for  harness.  The  first  two  words  are  Spanish,  and  the 

last  word  is  Arabian.  But  these  Americanos !" 

And  Chileno  John  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  They  do 
not  know." 

"  Wall,  '  soldier  hammer/  *  sovrin  hammer,'  or 
'  Sullivan  hammer,'  it's  all  thd  same,"  grunted  old 
Jack.  "Plain  '  aparejo  cover  '  is  good  enough."  And 
thus  he  disposed  of  the  historic  sobre-en-jalmas,  which, 
pronounced  rapidly  sobr'-'n-halma  did  indeed  sound 

96 


JIMMIE  TAKES  A  LESSON 

like  some  kind  of  a  *  hammer."  "  After  the  pack 
saddle,  long  with  its  sovrin  hammer,  is  cinched  on, 
then  we  h'ist  on  the  packs  an'  sling  'em  an'  fasten  'em 
with  the  diamond  hitch,"  he  resumed.  "  But  as  we 
haven't  got  nary  packs,  the  fust  lesson  stops  right  hyar, 
me  son.  Now  you  remember  what  I'm  tellin'  you, 
Tarn  mules  and  pack- ways,  an'  jump  when  you're  spoken 
to,  -so  you  won't  be  a  drag  tail." 

"  What's  a  '  drag  tail/  Jack?  " 
"A  drag  tail,  me  son,  is  wuss'n  a  shave  tail.     A 
drag  tail  is  a  durned  lazy  mule  who's  alluz  hangin'  back 
on  the  trail,  an'  a  no-'count  packer  who's  alluz  late 
on  his  job.     Savvy  ?  " 


VIII 

THE  ONE-ARMED  GENERAL  TRIES 

"  HEY  !    Cochise  is  out  again !  " 

It  was  a,  spring  day  of  this  next  year,  1872,  and  in 
the  ranch  yard  on  the  Joe  Felmer  place  Jimmie  and 
his  assistant,  little  Francisco  Vasquez,  were  practicing 
pack-train. 

Jimmie  was  the  pack-master,  little  Francisco  (a 
Mexican  boy)  was  arriero  or  muleteer;  the  train  was 
composed  of  Shosh  (Bear),  a  big  black  shepherd  dog, 
Pete,  a  yellow  hound  dog,  and  Two-bits,  just  dog. 

Shosh  already  had  learned  to  carry  a  pack  and  pack- 
rigging,  dog  size.  He  was  a  real  "  bell  sharp/'  Two- 
bits  was  still  an  unruly  "  shave  tail,"  and  the  yellow 
Pete  was  so  lazy  that  he  ranked  as  only  a  "  drag  tail." 
But  they  furnished  good  practice  for  Jimmie. 

Now  Joe,  returning  from  a  trip  down  to  Tucson, 
brought  startling  news.  Cochise  was  "  out "  again ! 
Even  little  Francisco  looked  alarmed. 

"  Are  all  the  Chiricahua  out,  Joe?  " 

"  Cochise  an'  Geronimo  an'  niigh  two  hundred 
more  of  'em.  That  pesky  Colyer  man  on  his  way  back 
to  the  States  got  the  Government  to  move  all  the 
'Paches  from  whar  they  were  com  f  table  in  the  Warm 
Spring  country  to  another  part  o'  the  New  Mexico 
country  called  the  Tularosa ;  an',  by  jinks,  Cochise  said 
he  wouldn't  go — an'  he  didn't  go !  He  took  his  Chirica- 
hua an'  lit  out  for  his  old  stampin'-ground  in  Arizony. 
So  the  word's  been  passed  to  watch  for  trouble." 

98 


THE  ONE-ARMED  GENERAL  TRIES 

Joe  stalked  on,  muttering,  to  carry  some  purchases 
into  the  house.  Jimmie  the  pack-master  and  little 
Francisco  the  arriero  dismissed  their  pack-train  and 
quit  for  the  day.  The  knowledge  that  Cochise  and 
Geronimo  and  their  shifty  Chiricahuas  had  left  the 
Canada  Alamosa  reservation,  where  they  had  been 
staying  with  Chief  Victorio's  Warm  Spring  band,  and 
had  joined  the  fighting  Chiricahuas  who  had  stayed 
"  wild,"  cast  a  shadow  upon  foolery. 

"  Will  the  great  General  Crook  march  against  them 
now  ?  "  asked  Francisco,  his  black  eyes  round  and  large. 

"  Who  knows  ?  "  responded  Jimmie,  in  Spanish. 
"  There's  a  new  peace  man  coming  from  Washington. 
Then  if  the  Chiricahua  will  not  listen  to  peace,  they 
will  hear  war.  Bueno !  " 

"  Bueno  (Good)  !  "  piped  Francisco.  "  Will  you 
take  me,  Jeem  ?  " 

"Perhaps,  chico  mio  (my  little  one)/'  grandly 
promised  Jimmie. 

To  Francisco,  Jimmie  was  an  important  person, 
who  had  lived  with  the  Cochise  Chiricahuas,  and  called 
the  chief's  son  "  chi-kis-n "  or  brother,  and  spoke 
Apache,  and  soon  was  going  to  be  a  real  arriero  or 
else  a  scout,  with  the  American  soldiers. 

Aside  from  a  few  scouting  expeditions,  the  winter 
at  Camp  Grant  had  been  quiet.  The  agency  for  the 
Arivaipas  and  Finals  was  in  operation,  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Arivaipa  Canyon  about  a  mile  east;  a  Mr.  Ed 
Jacobs  was  the  agent. 

Nevertheless,  Chief  Es-kim-en-zin's  people  were 
still  afraid;  they  had  not  forgotten  the  attack  by  the 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

Tucson  crowd.  They  came  in  around  the  agency 
buildings  every  day,  but  every  evening  they  went  back 
up  into  the  canyon,  where  they  might  defend 
themselves. 

The  Peace  Policy  and  the  visit  by  Commissioner 
Colyer  had  not  proved  an  entire  success.  A  great 
many  Indians  were  still  out.  The  Arizona  newspapers 
insisted  that  as  long  as  General  Crook  was  forbidden 
to  drive  the  outlaw  Indians  from  their  hiding-places, 
the  bad  hearts  who  were  simply  using  the  reservations 
would  feel  that  they  might  do  as  they  pleased,  also. 

There  had  been  attacks  upon  ranches  and  mines  and 
stage  stations  in  south  and  north  both ;  the  legislature 
had  called  upon  Congress  for  better  protection  to  Ari- 
zona; and  General  Crook  was  all  ready.  He  was  only 
waiting. 

"  I  think  that  the  Apache  is  painted  in  darker 
colors  than  he  deserves,  and  that  his  villainies  arise 
more  from  a  misconception  of  facts  than  from  his  being 
worse  than  other  Indians/'  had  reported  the  general, 
after  studying  the  situation.  And  he  had  added :  "  I 
am  satisfied  that  a  sharp,  active  campaign  against  him 
would  not  only  make  him  one  of  the  best  Indians  in 
the  country,  but  it  would  also  save  millions  of  dollars 
to  the  Treasury,  and  the  lives  of  many  innocent  whites 
and  Indians." 

The  Indians  on  the  reservations  were  complaining 
of  food  and  slack  treatment;  in  New  Mexico  Chief 
Victor io  of  the  Warm  Springs  and  Chief  Cochise  of 
the  Chiricahuas  had  refused  to  be  changed  from  the 
Canada  Alamosa ;  so  the  Government  was  sending  out 

100 


THE  ONE-ARMED  GSN&BAL  TRUSS 


another  peace  commissioner.   Brevet  -Ma  jorTQ 
O.  O.  Howard,  to  try  to  satisfy  everybody. 

He  was  to  make  especial  effort  to  talk  with  Cochise, 
who  so  far  had  declined  to  talk  at  all.  Cochise  and 
Geronimo  had  claimed  that  they  were  willing  to  live 
with  Chief  Victorio  on  the  Warm  Spring  reservation, 
but  they  had  run  away  from  Mr.  Colyer,  in  fear  of  the 
soldiers.  They  rarely  went  near  the  army  post,  there, 
Fort  Craig,  and  orders  had  been  given  that  the  soldiery 
should  leave  them  alone,  so  that  they  would  continue 
peaceful  and  contented,  among  the  Warm  Springs. 

The  President  had  hoped  that  Cochise  would  talk 
with  General  Howard,  who  was  a  great  chief  like  him- 
self. Now  Cochise  was  "  out  "  again! 

"  As  far  as  I  can  savvy  the  trouble,  that  Colyer  man 

has  spilled  the  soup,"  complained  Joe,  this  evening 

after  his  return  from  Tucson.     "  Some  o'  these  agen- 

cies are  located  in  awful  pore  places,  not  fitted  for  the 

[Injuns  at  all  —  like  that  Date  Creek  reservation  whar 

|  the  Apache-Mohaves  are  herded.     But  that  Canada 

Alamosa  of  the  Ojo  Caliente  (Warm  Spring)  country 

jest  suited  old  Victorio,  an'  Cochise,  too,  an*  they 

weren't  doin'  any  harm. 

"  Now  'long  comes  Colyer,  an'  he  says  to  the  Gov- 
ernment: 'The  settlers  'round  the  Canada  Alamosa 
don't  like  to  have  the  Injuns  thar.  It's  good  cattle 
ground,  an'  they  want  it  for  themselves.  So  to  avoid 
hard  feelin's  I  recommend  we  move  the  Injuns  all  up 
yondef  to  the  Tularosa  country,  which  nobody  wants  !  ' 

"  Natur'ly,  bein'  as  the  same  Injuns  had  been  prom- 
ised the  Canada  Alamosa  if  they'd  live  on  it,  an'  thar's 

101 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 


tod  fpr;;tljec  settlers,  they  see  no  good 
reason  for  swapping  They  say  that  up  at  the  Tularosa 
the  weather  an'  land  an'  water  are  as  bad  for  Injuns 
as  for  white  men,  an'  it's  ghost  country.  I  tell  ye," 
concluded  Joe,  "  when  you  make  an  agreement  with  an 
Injun  you  got  to  stand  by  it,  or  he'll  never  believe 
in  you  ag'in.  You  can't  fool  him,  or  he'll  fool  you! 
I'm  curyus  to  see  what  kind  of  a  man  this  Gen'ral 
Howard  is." 

Jimrnie,  too,  was  "  curyrus  "  to  see  this  General 
O.  O.  Howard,  who  was  visiting  the  peaceful  Yumas 
and  Pimas  in  western  Arizona  and  was  expected,  any 
day,  at  Tucson.  His  next  stop  probably  would  be 
Camp  Grant  itself,  so  that  he  might  talk  with  the 
Pinals  and  Arivaipas. 

Veteran  Sergeant  Warfield,  who  had  served  under 
the  general  in  the  Union  Army,  at  Antietam  and 
Gettysburg  and  in  other  big  battles,  said  that  he  was 
a  great  man,  had  commanded  as  high  as  thirty  thou- 
sand soldiers,  in  the  field;  had  lost  his  right  arm,  by 
two  wounds,  at  the  battle  of  Fair  Oaks;  was  a  hard 
fighter  and  was  very  religious  —  knew  the  Bible  by 
heart  and  almost  had  resigned  from  the  army  to  go  into 
"  preaching." 

"  But  let  me  tell  you  this,"  added  the  grizzled  ser- 
geant, to  Jimmie  :  "  Arizony'll  find  out  that  General 
Howard's  a  man  who'll  see  that  right  is  done  to  both 
white  and  red.  He's  got  a  heap  of  sense,  and  he's  as 
square  as  a  piece  of  hard-tack." 

"  A  great  American  soldier  chief  is  coming  to  talk 
with  the  Arivaipa,"  informed  Jimmie,  to  old  Santos, 
at  the  reservation. 

10* 


THE  ONE-ARMED  GENERAL  TRIES 

"  What  does  he  want  ? "  demanded  Santos,  in 
Apache. 

"  He  wants  to  make  peace  with  all  the  Indians." 

"What  good  is  peace?"  retorted  Santos.  "The 
Arivaipa  asked  for  peace,  and  the  white  people  and 
the  Papagos  killed  our  women  and  stole  our  children. 
We  are  still  at  peace,  but  none  of  our  women  and 
children  have  come  back,  and  we  are  hungry.  We 
would  have  done  better  to  fight  like  the  Chiricahua 
and  the  Tonto." 

In  a  few  days,  or  early  in  May,  General  Howard 
did  indeed  appear  at  Camp  Grant.  He  was  traveling 
in  a  six-mule  army  ambulance,  with  an  escort  of  cav- 
alry from  post  to  post.  Colonel  Crittenden  and  staff 
rode  out  a  short  distance  to  meet  him.  The  four  com- 
panies of  Fifth  Cavalry  and  Twenty-third  Infantry 
were  drawn  up,  to  receive  him;  their  worn  uniforms 
brushed  and  every  button  and  buckle  polished. 

General  Howard  certainly  looked  like  a  fine,  sol- 
dierly officer.  He  was  as  tall  as,  and  rather  heavier 
than  General  Crook ;  with  full  brown  beard  and  hand- 
some, lion-like  countenance ;  in  dusty  campaign  hat,  and 
double-breasted  blue  coat  with  two  rows  of  brass  but- 
tons down  the  front,  and  shoulder-straps  bearing  the 
single  s.tar  each  of  a  brigadier  general  (which  was  his 
regular  rank),  and  with  an  empty  right  sleeve  pinned 
to  his  sword  belt. 

"  Yep,  I  jedge  he's  all  right,"  announced  the  ambu- 
lance driver,  to  an  inquiring  group  of  soldiers  and 
scouts,  after  the  parade  had  been  dismissed.  The 
driver  was  a  lean,  lank,  exceedingly  solemn  man  who 

103 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

could  not  be  induced  to  smile.  "  Only  thing  I  have 
against  him  is  his  callin'  me  '  Dismal  Jeems  ' — him  an' 
his  aide  Cap'n  Wilkinson.  I  dunno  why.  All  the  way 
over  from  Fort  Yumy  I've  tried  my  best  to  cheer  'em 
up.  I  told  'em  about  every  massacree  along  the  hull 
road ;  told  'em  we  were  liable  to  be  scalped,  any  mile ; 
told  'em  all  the  cheerfulest  things  I  could  think  of. 
But  somehow  I  didn't  make  a  hit.  The  gen'ral's 
powerful  pious,  too — holdin'  prayer-meetin'  on  Sun- 
day an'  readin'  his  Bible  whenever  he  has  a  chance. 

"  But  the  Yumas  an*  Pimas  cottoned  to  him,  an' 
down  at  Tucson  the  people  liked  him  fust-rate.  The 
Pimas  an'  Papagos  have  promised  to  come  in  to  a 
council  with  the  Arivaipas  here  next  week,  an*  the 
Mexicans  who  have  the  Arivaipa  kids  have  promised 
to  fetch  'em,  an'  I  s'pose  when  we  all  get  together  thar'll 
be  a  grand  killin'  match.  But  I'm  a  cheerful  man  an' 
alluz  aim  to  look  on  the  bright  side  o'  things." 

With  that,  "  Dismal  Jeems  "  drew  a  more  melan- 
choly face  than  before,  sighed  heavily,  and  slouched 
away  to  rub  down  his  sweaty  mules. 

General  Howard  was  not  here  to  stay  long,  this 
time.  He  spent  most  of  one  day  at  the  agency;  then 
he  left  for  Fort  Whipple,  to  confer  with  General 
Crook.  But  he  was  coming  back;  he  had  set  May  21 
as  the  date  for  the  big  peace  council. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  the  soldier  chief,  Santos?  " 
asked  Jimmie.  Old  Santos,  ex-chief,  usually  was  to 
be  found  sitting  in  the  sun,  on  the  bench  in  front  of  the 
agency  store.  He  did  not  live  in  the  hills  with 
Es-kim-en-zin. 

104 


THE  ONE-ARMED  GENERAL  TRIES 

"  The  soldier  chief  is  a  good  man.  He  pointed 
to  the  sky  and  said :  '  I  have  a  Father  up  there.  So 
have  you.  There  is  only  one  Father.  Your  Father  and 
my  Father  are  the  same.  So  you  and  I  are  brothers.' 
That  was  a  wise  speech.  We  shook  hands,  and  we  are 
brothers.  I  am  glad.  His  words  tell  me  that  he  is  a 
wise  chief,  and  his  sleeve  tells  me  that  he  is  a  great 
warrior.  Now  I  trust  him,  because  he  thinks  as  I  do." 

The  council  was  held  at  the  mouth  of  the  Arivaipa 
Canyon,  exactly  as  General  Howard  had  planned. 

From  their  agency  one  hundred  miles  west,  on  the 
Gila  River,  the  Pimas  came  on  time — twenty  of  them, 
with  their  teacher,  the  Reverend  Mr.  Cook,  and  their 
interpreter,  named  Louis. 

From  their  agency  at  Camp  Verde,  fifty  miles  west, 
some  Tontos  came;  and  some  Apache-Mohaves,  from 
their  agency  at  Date  Creek,  southwest  of  Prescott; 
and  a  company  of  Papagos,  from  their  homes  south  of 
Tucson. 

From  Tucson  itself  there  came  a  large  delegation  of 
Americans  and  Mexicans,  headed  by  Governor  A.  P.  K. 
Safford  and  the  district  attorney.  Many  of  the  Mexi- 
cans were  women,  bringing  the  Arivaipa  and  Pinal 
children  whom  they  had  adopted  after  the  massacre. 

The  Pimas  and  the  Papagos  had  long  been  enemies 
of  the  Apaches,  so  they  stayed  together.  The  Tontos 
and  the  Apache-Mohaves  had  been  enemies  of  every- 
body, so  they  stayed  together.  The  Mexicans  had  been 
enemies  of  the  Tontos  and  the  Apache-Mohaves  and 
the  Arivaipas  and  Pinals,  so  they  stayed  together. 
The  Americans — the  Tucson  citizens  and  the  scouts  and 

105 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

ranchers — were  ready  to  back  up  the  guard  of  soldiers, 
in  case  of  trouble.  But  General  Howard's  purpose 
was  to  make  peace  between  all  the  peoples  of  the 
Southwest. 

"Will  there  be  a  fight,  you  think,  Jeem?"  in- 
quired little  Francisco.  He  and  Jimmie  had  ridden 
over  early  on  one  of  the  ranch  mules,  to  see  and  hear 
whatever  might  happen.  "  The  Arivaipa  will  fight 
to  get  their  children,  and  the  Pima  will  fight  the  Tonto, 
and  the  soldiers  will  shoot;  won't  they,  Jeem?  " 

"  Who  knows  ? "  replied  Jimmie.  "  No,  they 
won't !  "  he  quickly  added.  "It  is  all  right,  chico. 
Here  comes  General  Howard.  And  see  who  is  with 
him !  That  is  General  Crook !  Hooray !  " 

"  Hooray ! "  echoed  Francisco,  who  always  tried 
to  do  what  Jimmie  did. 

For  with  its  six  mules  at  a  gallop,  and  with  General 
Howard  upon  the  seat  beside  "  Dismal  Jeems,"  the 
army  ambulance  had  swung  into  the  pretty  green  valley 
along  the  Arivaipa  Creek.  Behind  the  ambulance  fol- 
lowed, in  the  road,  a,  cavalcade  of  officers  on  horses 
and  mules.  The  first  two  were  Colonel  Crittenden 
of  Camp  Grant,  and  a  sinewy,  powerful  man,  in  a 
brown  canvas  suit,  on  a  mule.  General  Crook 
himself ! 

He  had  come  over  with  General  Howard  from  Fort 
Whipple.  So  had  Lieutenant  Bourke,  and  Lieutenant 
Ross,  and  Lieutenant  George  Bacon  of  the  First  Cav- 
alry, and  others  of  Jimmie's  old-time  officer  friends. 

General  Howard  and  party  climbed  out  of  the  ambu- 
lance; the  other  officers  left  their  mounts  with  the 

106 


THE  ONE-ARMED  GENERAL  TRIES 

orderlies ;  and  all  crossed  to  the  stools  and  benches  re- 
served for  the  "  chiefs,"  on  the  sod  in  the  center  of 
the  waiting  circle. 

"  No  Es-kim-en-zin  yet,"  whispered  little  Francisco. 
"  They  stay  away.  I  am  afraid,  Jeem." 

That  was  true.  Only  old  short-legged  Santos  and 
a  handful  of  decrepid  men  and  squaws  were  here; 
Chief  Es-kim-en-zin  and  his  warriors  had  not  ap- 
peared. General  Howard  and  General  Crook  and 
Colonel  Crittenden  sat,  waiting.  So  did  the  governor 
and  the  district  attorney.  So  did  the  Pima  and  Papago 
and  Apache-Mohave  chiefs.  Everybody  waited. 
Agent  Jacobs  plainly  was  worried,  but  it  would  not  do 
to  show  any  sign  of  impatience. 

"  Dismal  Jeems,"  the  ambulance  driver  from  Fort 
Yuma,  circulated  about,  wagging  his  head  and  prophe- 
sying that  nobody  would  leave  the  spot  alive !  Yes,  a 
cheerful  man  was  "  Dismal  Jeems." 

In  about  an  hour,  there  was  a  sudden  murmur  of 
interest.  From  the  mouth  of  the  Arivaipa  Canyon 
emerged  Chief  Es-kim-en-zin,  leading  his  band  of 
Arivaipas  and  Pinals.  They  were  in  their  best  paint, 
and  advanced  with  much  dignity  to  the  place  assigned 
to  them.  ISTow  the  circle  was  complete. 

For  fifteen  minutes  no  one  spoke.  General  How- 
ard evidently  understood  that  it  was  not  proper  to 
hurry  a  council.  Presently  he  arose,  and  through 
Concepcion  Equierre  the  interpreter,  who  spoke  Eng- 
lish as  well  as  he  did  Spanish  and  Apache,  invited  the 
Arivaipa-Pinals  to  make  a  talk. 

Es-kim-en-zin  was  first.     He  made  a  very  poor 

107 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

talk,  because  he  stammered,  but  he  spoke  thoroughly 
in  earnest,  and  so  did  others  of  his  band.  They 
wanted  their  children  back  again. 

The  Mexicans  who  now  had  the  children  were  in- 
vited to  reply.  They  said  that  the  children  were  being 
well  brought  up,  as  Christians;  they  loved  them  and 
did  not  wish  to  return  them  to  Indian  life. 

The  governor  and  the  district  attorney  spoke.  They 
said  that  it  was  better  for  Arizona  and  for  the  children 
to  have  the  children  brought  up  in  civilization.  The 
district  attorney  added  that  most  of  the  children  were 
orphans,  and  that  therefore  the  Territory  of  Arizona 
was  their  guardian.  Their  own  people  were  unable 
to  bring  them  up  properly. 

Es-kim-en-zin  and  his  old  men  answered  that  it 
was  true  that  many  mothers  and  fathers  had  been 
killed ;  but  the  Arivaipa  people  wept  for  the  little  boys 
and  girls  who  had  been  stolen  from  them,  and  would 
work  hard  to  take  good  care  of  the  children  of  their 
race. 

All  the  speeches  in  English  and  Apache  were  trans- 
lated into  Apache  and  English  by  Concepcion  Equierre, 
the  agency  interpreter;  and  again  into  Spanish  so  that 
the  Mexicans  and  the  Papagos  and  Pimas  might  under- 
stand what  was  going  on. 

That  evening  the  Es-kim-en-zin  Arivaipa-Pinals 
went  back,  six  miles,  up  into  their  canyon.  The  other 
delegations  camped  in  the  valley  bottom  around  the 
agency. 

Jimraie  and  Francisco,  on  their  mule,  rode  home 
with  Joe  Felmer. 

108 


THE  ONE-ARMED  GENERAL  TRIES 

"  It's  goin'  to  be  nip  an'  tuck,"  asserted  Joe.  "  As 
I  understand,  Gen'ral  Crook  he  agrees  with  the  gov'ner 
an'  deestrict  attorney  that  the  children  are  better  off  as 
they're  livin'  now.  It  may  mean  less  Injuns  to  fight, 
later.  On  the  other  hand,  I  heard  that  teacher-man 
Cook  talkin'  with  his  Pimas;  an'  seems  as  though  the 
Pirnas,  who  are  'most  like  white  folks  an'  hate  the 
Taches,  too,  sorter  think  the  kids  ought  to  be  given 
back  to  their  own  kin.  The  Papagos'll  be  ag'in  it, 
'cause  they  helped  steal  the  children,  an'  have  used  'em. 
The  Tontos  an'  Yavapais,  bein'  'Paches,  will  feel  like 
the  Arivaipas  do.  But  I  have  a  notion  Gen'ral 
Howard'll  find  a  way,  so  everybody '11  be  satisfied." 

It  was  not  until  the  third  day  of  the  council  that 
General  Howard  found  the  way.  Meanwhile  both 
parties  were  growing  angry.  Chief  Es-kim-en-zin  an- 
nounced that  he  could  see  no  good  in  so  many  long  talks. 
The  general  spent  the  second  night  among  the  camps, 
and  slept  on  the  ground  there.  In  the  morning  he 
made  his  final  speech. 

"  The  good  Mr.  Cook,  of  the  Pimas,  agrees  with 
me  that  the  children  ought  to  be  returned  to  their  own 
people,"  he  said.  "  Some  of  them  are  being  brought 
up  as  slaves  and  servants,  and  they  all  were  carried 
off  by  force,  which  is  not  right.  But  the  district 
attorney  from  Tucson,  and  the  governor,  and  other 
honest  persons,  think  differently,  and  I  should  listen  to 
their  words,  also.  So  we  will  take  the  matter  to 
Washington.  I  will  appeal  to  my  chief,  who  is  the 
Secretary  of  the  Interior;  and  the  district  attorney 
may  appeal  to  his  chief,  who  is  the  Attorney  General 

109 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

of  the  United  States.  And  these  chiefs  will  appeal 
to  President  Grant,  who  is  the  greatest  chief  of  all. 

"  While  the  President  is  deciding,  the  children  shall 
stay  here  at  the  agency  with  a  good  Christian  white 
woman  whom  I  have  engaged.  They  will  be  well 
cared  for,  at  government  expense.  Their  relatives 
and  friends  from  the  Arivaipas  may  visit  them  often, 
and  their  Mexican  friends  may  visit  them  often;  and 
our  Great  Father  at  Washington  shall  say  who  may 
keep  them." 

A  cheer  started,  but  the  district  attorney  sprang 
to  his  feet. 

"  We  wish  to  keep  the  children  until  the  President 
decides.  We  will  guarantee  to  do  whatever  he  directs. " 

"  No  guarantee  is  needed,  from  either  side," 
severely  answered  General  Howard.  "  Here  is  Gen- 
eral Crook.  With  his  army  and  his  authority  he  will 
see  to  it  that  justice  is  done  exactly  as  I  have  outlined !  " 

"Good!" 

"Bueno,  bueno!" 

"Inju!" 

The  word  was  repeated  in  a  perfect  storm  of 
languages.  The  gathering  was  all  excitement  and 
relief.  Everybody  seemed  to  approve  of  what  the 
general  had  said ;  that  is,  everybody  except  the  district 
attorney  and  a  few  scouts  and  ranchers  who  did  not 
believe  in  yielding  peace  terms  to  any  Apaches 
whatsoever. 

The  Arivaipa-Pinals  and  the  Papagos  and  the 
Pimas  and  the  Apache-Mohaves  and  the  Tontos  hugged 
one  another ;  some  of  the  Mexicans  hugged  some  of  the 

no 


THE  ONE-ARMED  GENERAJL  TRIES 

Indians;  General  Crook  and  the  officers  laughed.     It 
was  a  happy  solution  of  a  serious  problem. 

"Kinder  like  a  love-feast,  after  all,  warn't  it!" 
remarked  Joe  Felmer.  "Huh!  Wall,  I  reckon  the 
gen'ral  knows  how  the  President'll  decide." 

Probably  General  Howard  did,  for  in  due  time  the 
children  were  given  over  to  the  Es-kim-en-zin  band, 
by  orders  from  Washington,  and  Es-kim-en-zin  always 
remained  at  peace. 

Amidst  the  hurly-burly  of  excitement  Jimmie  found 
himself  close  to  General  Crook,  who  was  talking  ear- 
nestly with  Joe  Felmer  and  old  Jack  Long.  That  was 
his  style;  he  did  not  go  much  on  red  tape,  but  spoke 
direct  to  officers  and  enlisted  men  alike. 

Here  in  his  travel-stained  canvas  suit  without  any 
mark  of  rank  on  it,  he  scarcely  would  be  taken,  again, 
for  a  general  commanding  all  the  big  Territory  of 
Arizona,  He  was  thinner  than  when  Jimmie  had  last 
seen  him,  before;  his  face  was  lined,  and  he  looked 
as  though  he  had  been  working  hard,  and  worrying  too. 

His  eyes,  glancing  aside,  fell  upon  Jimmie,  and 
recognized  him.  To  the  beck  of  the  general's  finger 
Jimmie  stepped  forward  and  stood  at  attention. 

"  This  is  your  boy,  is  he,  Felmer?  "  The  general 
seemed  to  remember  everything. 

"  Yessir,  that's  what  I  call  him." 

"  He's  wearing  rather  more  clothes  than  when  I 
first  met  him,"  commented  the  general  drily.  "  What 
are  you  going  to  make  of  him?  " 

"  Wall,  he's  ondecided  'twixt  scout  an*  packer," 
drawled  Joe.  "  He's  a  leetle  small  yet,  but  he's 
growin'." 

111 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"  Yes,  an'  he'll  have  plenty  time  to  grow  while 
we're  all  standin'  'round  waitin'  on  the  Government's 
Arizony  pets  to  come  in  to  their  feed  canvas  when 
they're  called! "  grumbled  old  Jack.  "  He's  liable  to 
die  of  old  age,  if  he  ain't  sculped  fust." 

"  Tut,  tut !  "  sharply  reproved  the  general.  "  Gen- 
eral Howard's  doing  good  work.  He's  the  right  man. 
But  this  is  not  saying  that  there  won't  be  use  for  the 
army.  As  for  you,  my  boy,"  he  continued,  to  Jimmie, 
"  keep  on  learning  to  the  best  of  your  ability,  so  that 
you'll  be  ready  for  whatever  comes." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  promised  Jimmie. 


IX 


THE  HORRID  DEED  OF  CHUNTZ 

GENERAL  CROOK  had  ridden  back  to  Fort  Whipple, 
on  his  mule  "  Apache,"  and  General  Howard  had  left 
in  the  ambulance  driven  by  "  Dismal  Jeems,"  for  Camp 
Apache  and  the  White  Mountain  reservation. 

He  had  another  good  scheme.  He  was  collecting 
Indians  from  among  the  tribes,  to  take  them  with  him 
to  Washington  and  the  Great  White  Father,  that  they 
might  understand  how  many  and  powerful  the  white 
people  were. 

Old  Santos  had  agreed  to  go,  for  the  Arivaipas. 
The  Pimas  were  sending  their  teacher,  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Cook,  and  Louis  the  interpreter,  and  the  young 
chief  Anton i to.  The  Papagos  were  sending  their 
chief,  Ascencion.  The  Date  Creek  Apache-Mohaves 
or  Yavapais  were  sending  Charlie  and  Jose. 

Concepcion  Equierre  went  from  the  Arivaipa 
agency,  to  translate  Apache. 

The  general  expected  to  get  some  of  the  Sierra 
Blanca  or  White  Mountain  Apaches,  at  the  Camp 
Apache  reservation ;  and  to  invite  the  Chiricahuas,  also. 
He  arrived  safely  at  Camp  Apache,  and  there  added  to 
his  party  Chiefs  Miguel  of  the  one  eye,  Pedro  and 
Es-ki-tis-tsla ;  but  he  failed  to  find  any  Chiricahuas. 

So  he  proceeded  by  wagon  and  mule,  without  them. 

"  I'd  shorely  like  to  see  those  Injuns'  faces  when 
the  hull  party  strikes  the  railroad  at  Santy  Fee ! " 
chuckled  Jack  Long.     "They'll  think  the  Old  Nick 
is  to  tow  'em  with  his  tail  up." 
8  us 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

For  Santa  Fe  of  New  Mexico  Territory  was  the 
nearest  point  east  of  Camp  Grant  reached  by  a  railroad. 

"  What  does  a  railroad  look  like,  Jeem  ?  "  queried 
little  Francisco,  hearing  the  talk. 

Jimmie  himself  had  not  seen  a  railroad  for  several 
years,  but  he  remembered,  and  he  tried  to  explain. 

"  It's  two  lines  of  iron,  like  wagon-wheel  tracks, 
reaching  miles  and  miles,  chico,"  he  said.  "  And  on 
them  roll  fine  wagons,  joined  together  and  filled  with 
people,  and  drawn  by  a — did  you  ever  hear  about 
boats,  chico?  Those  boats  that  sail  up  and  down  the 
Colorado  River,  and  make  a  big  noise?  " 

Francisco  eagerly  nodded. 

"  My  father  has  a  brother  who  saw  one.'* 

"  Well,  the  thing  that  hauls  the  wagons  is  a  steam- 
boat on  land.  It  runs  without  horses;  and  it  runs  so 
fast  that  it  could  go  from  here  to  Tucson,  fifty-five 
miles,  in  two  hours." 

Francisco  crossed  himself. 

"  I  would  be  afraid,  Jeem/'  he  quavered. 

Poor  little  Francisco !     He  was  to  meet  a  sad  fate. 

But,  first,  June  and  July  passed  quietly  at  Camp 
Grant.  From  Fort  Whipple  General  Crook  continued 
to  keep  scouting  detachments  and  pack-trains  moving. 
The  various  posts  were  strengthened  by  troops  and 
supplies.  The  greater  portion  of  the  Fifth  Cavalry 
was  in  Arizona,  with  some  troops  of  the  First  Cavalry, 
and  part  of  the  Twelfth  Infantry  and  of  the  Twenty- 
third  Infantry — the  general's  regiment.  The  Twenty- 
first  Infantry  and  most  of  the  Third  Cavalry  had  gone 
out. 

114 


THE  HORRID  DEED  OF  CHUNTZ 

The  general  was  getting  ready.  According  to  the 
officers  of  the  Fifth  Cavalry  and  the  Twenty-third 
Infantry  at  Camp  Grant,  the  President  had  resolved 
that  if  the  Peace  Policy  in  Arizona  did  not  persuade 
the  Indians  to  settle  down  within  a  year,  General 
Crook  should  be  ordered  to  take  matters  over. 

The  year  would  be  up  this  September. 

Then,  in  August,  things  "'broke  wide  open,"  as 
Joe  Felmer  expressed  it. 

General  Crook  just  escaped  being  assassinated  by 
the  Yavapais  at  Date  Creek,  where  he  had  gone  for  a 
talk.  He  had  angered  them  by  arresting  several  of 
them  for  the  murder  of  Engineer  Lor  ing  and  others, 
in  the  Wickenburg  stage  massacre.  He  had  been  told 
that  they  were  planning  to  kill  him,  but  he  went  anyway. 

They  did  try  to  shoot  him,  in  the  council.  Lieu- 
tenant Ross  knocked  up  the  arm  of  the  Indian  who  fired 
first,  there  was  an  all-round  tussle,  Hank  Hewitt  the 
packer  seized  one  Indian  by  both  ears  and  broke  his 
head  against  a  rock,  a  part  of  the  Yavapais  were  killed 
or  imprisoned,  and  the  rest  fought  their  way  into  the 
mountains. 

The  Tonto  Basin  Apaches — Tontos  and  Yavapais 
both — were  attacking  ranches  and  mines  south  of  Pres- 
cott  Their  worst  chiefs  were  Chuntz,  and  Delt-che 
(Delt-shay)  or  Red  Ant  (the  Yavapais  were  known 
as  Red  Ant  people),  and  Cha-li-pun,  the  Buckskin- 
colored  Hat. 

And  on  the  road  only  thirty  miles  south  of  Tucson 
the  Chiricahuas  killed  gallant  young  Lieutenant  Reid 
Stewarl;  the  "  shave  tail "  who  had  been  out  of  West 

115 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

Point  two  months,  and  Corporal  Black,  while  the  two 
were  riding  in  a  buck-board  wagon  up  from  Fort 
Crittenden,  for  Tucson. 

"  An'  I  hear  now  they've  got  Bob  Whitney,  at 
last,"  one  day  reported  Joe  Felmer,  on  return  from 
Tucson.  "  Yep ;  shot  out  his  brains  while  he  an' 
Cap'n  Gerald  Russell  o'  the  Third  were  waterin'  their 
hosses  in  the  place  called  Cochise's  Stronghold  of  the 
Dragoon  Mountains,  between  Tucson  an'  Bowie." 

Bob  Whitney  had  been  known  as  the  handsomest 
guide  and  scout  in  Arizona. 

"  Anyhow,"  pursued  Joe,  "  this  sort  o'  thing  won't 
hang  over,  long.  They  told  me  at  Lowell  (Camp 
Lowell,  near  Tucson,  he  meant)  that  orders  have  been 
received  from  headquarters  to  be  ready  to  take  the 
trail  on  short  notice,  an'  that  the  old  man  (who  was 
General  Crook)  is  puttin'  on  his  war-paint  and  havin' 
that  mule  Tache,  o'  his,  re-shod,  four  squar'." 

At  the  instant,  while  Joe  was  speaking  in  the  ranch 
yard,  a  sudden  high  chorus  of  shrill  grief  sounded, 
down  the  road  to  Camp  Grant.  Up  the  course  of  the 
sandy  San  Pedro  Valley  wended  a  slow  little  proces- 
sion, of  men  and  women  afoot  and  on  mules. 

The  grief  immediately  spread  to  the  ranch,  where 
the  Mexican  women  began  to  run  wildly,  and  shriek, 
and  tear  their  hair.  Mrs.  Vasquez,  who  was  Fran- 
cisco's mother,  rushed  by,  to  meet  the  procession. 

"Mi  nino!  Ay,  mi  nifio!"  she  wailed.  "My 
little  boy!  Oh,  my  little  boy!  " 

How  did  she  know?  Joe  Felmer  gaped,  puzzled; 
and  a  cold  fear  seized  Jimmie's  thumping  heart. 

Upon  the  seat  of  a  two-wheeled,  creaking  cart  in 

116 


THE  HORRID  DEED  OF  CHUNTZ 

the  midst  of  the  procession  Francisco's  father, 
Domingo  Vasquez,  was  sitting  and  holding  in  his  arms 
something  wrapped  in  a  blanket.  He  held  it  very 
tightly. 

Yes,  it  was  poor  little  Francisco,  killed  by  an 
Apache  lance-thrust.  Joe  Felmer  scarcely  could  get 
the  story,  amid  all  that  shrieking  and  confusion;  but 
finally  he  and  Jimmie  learned  from  Domingo  what  had 
happened. 

"  I  take  him  with  me  in  my  cart  to  Camp  Grant 
this  morning,"  said  Domingo,  in  Mexican-Spanish, 
"while  I  cut  wood  along  the  Arivaipa,  for  the  fort. 
He  visits  with  people  I  know,  and  I  do  not  see  him. 
When  I  go  to  the  fort  to  get  him  and  come  home,  he 
is  not  there.  They  say  he  has  left  to  find  me.  We 
hunt  a  long  time,  and  we  call,  and  he  does  not  answer. 
And  then,  next,  they  tell  me  he  is  found,  and  I  see  them 
bringing  him.  Just  a  little  way  off  the  trail  up  the  Ari- 
vaipa from  the  fort  somebody  had  found  him,  behind 
a  cactus  there;  and  he  was  dead  by  an  Apache  lance. 
Why  should  anybody  kill  my  little  boy — my  nifio>,  my 
muchachito ! — my  little  Francisco  who  never  harmed  ?  " 

Why,  indeed  ?  Francisco  was  only  a  gay,  innocent 
little  Mexican  boy,  alone,  and  too  young  to  be  an  enemy. 
The  murder  had  been  done  at  a  turn  of  the  trail  within 
rifle-shot  from  the  fort.  A  party  of  Chief  Chuntz's 
Tontos  and  Yavapais  had  been  sneaking  around  the 
post  and  the  agency,  pretending  that  they  were  ready 
to  come  in.  Old  Santos  insisted  that  the  murderer 
was  a  Chuntz  warrior,  if  not  Chuntz  himself. 

Santos  was  home  again,  after  his  trip  east  with 
General  Howard.  He  was  filled  with  admiration  of 

117 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

the  ways  of  the  white  people.  The  general  had  given 
him  a  New  Testament,  which  he  could  not  read,  of 
course,  but  which  he  placed  under  his  head,  every  night, 
when  he  slept. 

"  Chuntz  is  bad,"  sympathized  Santos,  to  Jimmie. 
"  He  is  bad  and  so  are  his  men.  All  those  Tonto  and 
Yavapai  are  bad  at  heart.  To  kill  a  boy  is  not  Chris- 
tian. The  only  way  to  make  those  Tonto  and  Yavapai 
good  is  to  hunt  them  down.  Cluke,  the  man  with  the 
brown  clothes,  must  go  out  after  them,  and  after  the 
Chiricahua,  too.  I  have  told  the  Arivaipa  what  I 
have  seen  among  the  white  men.  The  white  men 
are  many  and  very  rich,  and  we  will  live  like  them  if 
they  do  not  try  to  make  us  believe  that  the  earth  is 
round.  General  Howard  started  to  tell  me  that  the 
earth  is  round,  but  I  answered  that  he  and  I  are  too 
great  chiefs,  to  be  such  fools  as  that!  " 

Little  Francisco  was  laid  away  at  the  ranch.  For 
some  time  Jimmie  felt  sad  and  lonely.  Francisco  had 
been  his  chum.  The  end  was  cruel  and  horrible. 

So  he  was  mighty  glad  when  Joe  sent  him  out  with 
old  Jack  Long,  to  help  take  a  pack-train  and  bunch  of 
cavalry  horses  clear  to  Camp  Bowie,  by  way  of  Tucson. 

"  An',  b'  gosh,  you'd  better  hustle  back,"  warned 
Joe.  "  That  Chuntz  is  a-goin'  to  be  made  to  pay  for 
his  boy  killin',  as  soon  as  thar's  snow  on  the  peaks. 
The  old  man's  only  waitin'  till  winter  sets  in." 

It  seemed  high  time  that  something  was  done.  In 
the  past  twelve  months  of  Peace  Policy  over  forty 
Americans  and  Mexicans  of  Arizona  had  been  killed 
by  the  Apaches,  sixteen  wounded,  and  five  hundred  and 
fifty  cattle  stolen. 

118 


X 

ON  THE  TRAIL  WITH  THE  PACK-TRAIN 

JOHN  CAHILL,  the  new  blacksmith  at  Grant,  went; 
but  Joe  had  been  appointed  a  scout,  and  stayed  at  home. 

Tucson,  only  fifty-five  miles  south,  was  easily  made 
in  two  days,  for  the  loose  horses  and  the  Grant  pack- 
mules  traveled  light.  But  Camp  Bowie,  at  the  Apache 
Pass  in  the  Chiricahua  Mountains,  was  one  hundred 
and  ten  miles  east  from  Tucson  and  Camp  Lowell. 
That  meant  a  real  march  with  thirty  loaded  mules,  and 
a  hundred  remount  cavalry  horses,  and  the  cavalry 
escort  commanded  by  Lieutenant  Jacob  Almy,  and  a 
riding-mule  for  each  man  of  the  pack-train. 

The  packs  were  chiefly  ammunition.  Each  mule 
carried  three  hundred  pounds. 

"  We'll  jest  see  what  we  can  do,  boys,"  said  Jack. 
"  Regulations  try  to  make  us  think  that  a  hundred  and 
seventy  pounds  is  all  a  mule'll  stand;  but  the  gin'ral 
knows  more'n  ary  regulations  issued  by  those  folks  at 
Washington.  I  wouldn't  insult  a  good  sound  mule  by 
puttin'  only  a  hundred  seventy  on  his  back — not  if  he's 
packed  right.  Pack  him  right,  so  the  load  slings  even, 
an'  he'll  carry  his  two  hundred  fifty  an'  three  hundred 
pounds  at  five  miles  an  hour  for  twenty-five  an'  thirty 
miles  a  day,  week  in  an'  week  out." 

Old  Jack  was  the  pack-master  or  patron  (pz-trone) . 
Frank  Monach  was  assistant  pack-master,  or  cargador 
(car-ga-cfore).  "  Slim  Shorty"  was  cook  or  cencero 

119 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

(cen-vycry-ro) .  Frank  Cahill  was  blacksmith.  The 
packers  or  arrieros  were  Jim  O'Neill,  "  Chileno  John," 
"  Long  Jim  "  Cook  (six  feet  eight),  Charley  Hopkins, 
Sam  Wisser  the  Pennsylvania  German,  and  Lauriano 
Gomez  who  sang  Spanish  songs. 

The  pack-train  was  called  an  atajo  (ah-tah-ho)  ;  the 
packs  were  "  cargoes/'  and  the  pack-saddles  or  apare- 
jos,  and  such  stuff,  composed  the  "  riggings." 

Pack-train  service  had  a  language  all  its  own.  Yes, 
and  an  army  train  as  organized  under  General  Crook 
had  a  discipline  all  its  own,  too,  as  Jimmie  soon  found 
out. 

The  trail  from  Tucson  to  Bowie  was  the  main 
Southern  overland  stage  road  between  the  Rio  Grande 
River  in  New  Mexico  and  San  Diego  of  the  Pacific. 
Therefore  the  traveling  up  hill  and  down  was  good. 

It  was  Jixnmie's  business  to  help  herd  the  mules,  in 
the  evening  and  the  early  morning,  while  the  regular 
herders  were  eating;  and  to  come  in  and  rouse  the 
cook,  at  daybreak,  and  get  him  wood  and  water,  if 
needed. 

In  half  an  hour  after  the  cook  was  up,  the  men 
were  wakened.  While  they  were  folding  their  blankets 
(which  were  the  pack-blankets)  and  taking  the  canvas 
coverings  off  the  "  riggings  "  and  "  cargoes,"  Jimmie 
brought  in  the  herd. 

This  was  not  difficult,  because  when  he  started  the 
wise  old  bell  leader,  all  the  mules  followed;  and  so 
well  had  they  been  trained  that  except  for  a  few  "  shave 
tails  "  they  took  their  own  places,  in  a  sort  of  company 
front,  each  facing  his  pile  of  "  rigging."  Every  mule 

120 


ON  THE  TRAIL  WITH  THE  PACK-TRAIN 

had  his  own,  individual  "  rigging,"  adjusted  to  fit  him 
perfectly. 

The  packers  saddled  their  riding  mules,  and  ate 
breakfast.  After  breakfast  they  put  the  "  riggings  " 
and  "  cargoes  "  on  the  pack-mules. 

They  worked  in  pairs,  and  each  pair  attended  to 
ten  mules.  A  full  pack-train  was  composed  of  fifty 
mules ;  ten  mules  were  assigned  to  a  troop  or  company 
of  soldiers.  The  thirty  mules  in  this  train  of  Patron 
Jack  called  for  six  packers. 

Jimmie  helped  "  Slim  Shorty  "  the  cook  pack  his 
kitchen  stuff;  and  Jimmie  and  the  cook  and  John 
Cahill  the  blacksmith  watched  the  loaded  mules,  espe- 
cially any  "  shave  tails/'  so  that  they  should  not  ramble 
away  or  try  to  lie  down. 

The  packers  worked  like  lightning,  uttering  scarcely 
a  word  except  signal  words,  for  it  was  against  regu- 
lations to  talk  much.  The  schedule  of  breaking  camp 
or  "  unparking  "  a  train  was  as  follows :  Twenty  min- 
utes for  be  fore-break  fast  work,  fifteen  minutes  for 
breakfast,  twenty  minutes  for  putting  on  the  "  rig- 
gings," twenty  minutes  for  putting  on  the  "  cargoes  " ; 
total,  one  hour  and  a  quarter. 

But  "  Chileno  John  "  and  Jim  O'Neill,  who  were 
the  prize  pair  of  packers,  in  an  exhibition  feat  loaded 
their  ten  mules  complete  ("  riggings  "  and  packs  and 
all)  in  ten  minutes! 

The  moment  that  the  train  was  ready,  Patron  Jack, 
who  had  been  eying  closely,  called  "  Bell !  "  and  "  Slim 
Shorty  "  the  cook  rode  the  white  bell  mare  out  upon  the 
trail ;  in  single  file  the  pack-mules — "  bell  sharps  "  and 

m 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"  shave  tails  "  and  slow  "  drag  tails  " — stepped  after, 
usually  of  their  own  accord. 

The  cavalry  escort  took  the  advance.  Patron  Jack 
and  "  Slim  Shorty  "  led  the  pack-train.  The  packers 
rode,  one  beside  every  fifth  mule.  Frank  Monach 
the  assistant  pack-master  or  "  cargador  "  brought  up 
the  rear,  with  John  Cahill  the  blacksmith,  whose  busi- 
ness it  was  to  look  out  for  dropped  shoes  and  sore 
hoofs. 

Jimmie  rode  behind,  too.  The  long  file  of  swaying, 
plodding  mules,  under  the  canvas-covered  packs,  made 
a  fascinating  sight.  So  did  the  sturdy  packers  or 
"  arrieros,"  in  their  broad  hats  and  suspenders  and 
flannel  shirts,  and  trousers  tucked  into  heavy  boots. 

Jack  aimed  to  start  out  by  sun-up  at  the  latest,  so 
as  to  finish  the  twenty-five  or  thirty  miles  at  one  stretch 
before  mid-day  heat  and  dust.  This  was  only  a  mod- 
erate march,  in  fairly  level  country.  In  rough  moun- 
tain country,  fifteen  miles  a  day,  at  a  go-as-you-can 
gait,  would  be  enough. 

To  unload  and  make  camp  was  called  "  parking." 
The  "  riggings  "  and  "  cargoes  "  were  laid  out  in  two 
neat  parallel  lines,  and  covered.  Jack  and  Frank 
Monach  examined  the  mules,  for  sore  backs  caused 
by  badly  fitting  aparejos.  The  "  bell "  was  hobbled 
and  turned  to  pasture  and  the  mules  followed. 

"  Riggings "  were  repaired,  if  necessary,  and 
scraped  clean  of  sweat  and  dirt.  The  pack-blankets 
were  opened,  to  air  for  sleeping  blankets;  from  their 
war-bags,  or  canvas  clothing  sacks,  the  men  took  out 
what  stuff  they  required. 

122 


ON  THE  TRAIL  WITH  THE  PACK-TRAIN 

But  the  pack-mules  were  the  main  thought.  Noth- 
ing in  the  way  of  petting  and  fancy  trappings  was  too 
good  for  a  pack-mule.  Each  mule  had  its  name,  and 
knew  that  name.  Nobody  was  permitted  to  strike  a 
mule  or  abuse  it  in  any  manner. 

"  You  can  abuse  a  dog  an'  he'll  forgive  you,"  said 
old  Jack.  "  But  you  mistreat  a  mule,  an*  he'll  never 
forget.  You  can  change  yore  clothes,  but  you  can't 
change  yore  smell — not  to  a  mule !  " 

The  bell  horse  or  "cencero"  (which  is  the  Spanish 
for  "  bell ")  had  the  easiest  time  of  any  of  the  pack- 
train  animals.  It  wasn't  packed.  All  that  the  "  bell  " 
had  to  do  was  to  tinkle  along  and  set  the  pace,  while 
carrying  the  cook.  The  "bell "  ought  to  be  white, 
because  mules  were  supposed  to  be  especially  fond  of 
white ;  the  "  bell  "  ought  to  be  a  horse,  because  mules 
respected  a  horse  more  than  they  did  another  mule; 
and  if  "he "  was  a  white  mare,  as  in  this  train,  then 
so  much  the  better,  because  mules  loved  white  mares. 

The  cook  rode  the  "  bell,"  and  therefore  was  nick- 
named "  cencero,"  himself. 

Patron  Jack  expected  to  make  Camp  Bowie  in  five 
days  easy,  which  would  bring  the  pack-train  and  the 
cavalry  through  in  good  condition.  The  first  two 
nights  out,  the  mules  were  herded,  to  graze ;  but  on  the 
third  day  the  road  crossed  the  Dragoon  Mountains  by 
way  of  Dragoon  Pass.  This  night  the  mules  were  tied 
along  a  stretched  picket-rope,  for  the  Dragoon  Moun- 
tains were  Chincahua  country,  and  contained  Cochise's 
Stronghold. 

"  He's  off  yonder  at  this  very  minute,  an'  mebbe 

128 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES, 

lookin'  for  us,"  declared  Cargador  Frank  Monach. 
"  I'll  bet  a  cooky  those  hills  southward  are  plumb  full  o' 
Chiricahua." 

"  That's  where  they  killed  pore  Bob  Whitney,  all 
right  enough/'  mused  Jim  O'Neill.  "  Down  at  Dra- 
goon Springs,  in  the  Stronghold.  Yes,  an'  many  an- 
other man  has  left  his  scalp  there.  That  range  west- 
ward is  the  Whetstones,  or  Mustangs,  where  they  got 
Gushing;  and  on  west  of  the  Whetstones  is  Davidson's 
Canyon  south  of  Tucson,  where  Lieutenant  Stewart 
and  Corporal  Black  went  under.  By  ginger,  a  fellow 
doesn't  look  out  on  a  very  pleasant  view,  from  up 
here!" 

From  the  open  Dragoon  Pass  of  the  stage  road  the 
Dragoon  Mountains,  low  and  rolling  but  very  rough, 
with  much  brush  and  stunted  timber,  extended  south- 
ward to  the  Mexican  line;  and  separated  from  them 
by  yellow  deserts,  west  and  east  and  north  rose  other 
low  ranges — all  chosen  hiding-places  of  the  fierce 
Chiricahuas. 

"  Anyhow,"  remarked  Jack  Long,  with  a  sly  wink, 
"  we  got  a  young  chi-kis-n  o'  theirs  hyar — reg'lar  mem- 
ber o'  the  Cochise  fam'ly — to  talk  for  us;  an'  if  ary 
Chiricahua  appear  we'll  send  him  in  to  'em." 

Jimmie  grinned  and  scratched  his  head;  whether 
Cochise  and  Geronimo  would  wait  and  listen  to  him, 
he  wasn't  certain.  But  he'd  rather  like  to  see  Nah-che 
and  Nah-da-ste,  and  explain  why  he  had  run  away. 

The  stage  and  the  mail  riders  had  been  attacked  in 
this  very  pass.  However,  nothing  alarming  happened, 

124 


ON  THE  TRAIL  WITH  THE  PACK-TRAIN 

to-night.     And  the  probable  reason  why,  they  learned 
the  next  day. 

Dragoon  Pass  was  about  half-way  between  Tucson 
and  Bowie,  so  that  Bowie  now  lay  some  fifty  miles  east. 
The  Chiricahua  Mountains  and  their  Apache  Pass 
might  be  seen,  in  the  eastern  horizon. 

The  Chiricahuas  had  been  so  bad  during  the  last 
two  months  that  the  stage  road  was  being  little  trav- 
eled. And  when,  in  the  morning,  on  the  way  down 
from  the  pass  a  cloud  of  dust  was  sighted  before,  every- 
body stared,  suspicious. 

Horsemen!  Injuns?  No,  cavalry!  Good!  A 
scouting  detachment  from  Bowie,  as  like  as  not;  or 
from  Crittenden  or  Lowell,  behind.  Lieutenant  Almy 
met  them  first,  and  both  parties  stopped,  to  talk. 
Patron  Jack,  at  the  head  of  the  pack-train,  spread 
his  two  arms  as  signal  for  "  Halt!  "  and  he  trotted  on, 
to  join. 

There  was  a  lengthy  confab. 

"Wall,  wonder  what's  up?"  drawled  Frank  Mon- 
ach.  "  Reckon  I'd  better  go  an'  see." 

"  Send  the  boy,  an'  save  yore  mule,"  suggested 
Blacksmith  John  Cahill.  "  He's  fairly  itchin'  to  sit 


in." 


So  Jimmie  somewhat  importantly  trotted  forward, 
too,  up  the  long  line  of  dozing,  switching  pack-mules, 
to  bring  back  news  if  he  heard  any. 

The  party  of  riders  from  the  east  were  several  offi- 
cers, and  three  or  four  booted,  flannel-shirted,  whisk- 
ered civilians,  wearing  heavy  Colt's  six-shooters  and 
carrying  rifles.  Yes,  and  somebody  else — a  young 

125 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

Mexican,  dark  enough  to  be  an  Apache,  clad  in  broad- 
brimmed  black  hat,  dirty  cotton  shirt,  old  trousers  and 
moccasins. 

Jimmie  knew  him  in  two  looks.  Maria  Jilda 
Grijalba!  That  same  Maria  who  had  been  a  captive 
in  the  Cochise  camp,  and  who,  Micky  Free  had  said, 
had  escaped  after  Jimmie  had  escaped. 

Jimmie  gladly  rode  straight  to  him. 

"  Buenos  dias,  Maria  (Good  day,  Maria)." 

"Buenos  dias,  amigo  (friend),"  responded  Maria, 
and  they  shook  hands  heartily. 

"  I  heard  you  had  escaped  from  the  Apaches.  What 
are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

"  I  have  come  out  from  Camp  Bowie  with  these 
officers,"  answered  Maria.  "  I  work  for  the  fort  now. 
I  am  a  scout  and  interpreter.  We  are  going  to  talk 
with  Cochise,  at  the  Dragoon  Springs." 

"What,  amigo!" 

"Yes,"  nodded  Maria.  "General  Howard,  the 
great  man  with  the  one  arm,  is  there,  with  Cochise, 
waiting.  He  has  come  from  Washington  again,  and 
has  found  Cochise.  He  has  been  in  the  Cochise  camp 
for  six  days.  They  have  made  peace.  There  will  be 
a  Chiricahua  reservation,  and  now  General  Howard 
has  sent  for  the  comandante  at  Bowie,  so  that  the 
comandante  and  Cochise  shall  know  each  other,  and 
there  will  be  no  mistake." 

Maria  spoke  in  Spanish  except  when  an  Apache 
word  seemed  handier.  Jimmie  understood.  It  was  a 
great  convenience  to  speak  in  two  languages,  at  once. 
As  for  Jimmie,  he  knew  three  languages. 

126 


ON  THE  TRAIL  WITH  THE  PACK-TRAIN 

"  Would  you  like  to  go  ?  "  asked  Maria.  "  You 
come  with  me,  and  we  will  see  Cochise,  and  Geronimo 
and  Nah-che  and  all  of  them." 

"  I'd  like  to  go,  but  I  don't  believe  I  can,  Maria," 
faltered  Jimmie.  "  I've  got  to  stay  with  the  atajo." 

"Are  you  an  arriero?  Who  is  your  patron?" 
inquired  Maria.  "  I  will  ask  him." 

But  Patron  Jack  Long  already  had  the  matter  on 
his  tongue. 

"  Hyar's  a  muchacho  (boy)  you  can  have,  if  you 
want  him,  cap'n,"  Jack  was  saying  to  the  cavalry 
captain.  "  He  lived  with  old  Cochise  a  while  in  these 
very  diggin's.  Speaks  Tache,  an'  consider'ble  Mex. 
Reckon  we  can  spar'  him  from  the  pack  outfit,  if  you'll 
fetch  him  back  to  Bowie  'fore  we  leave  thar." 

"  Does  he  speak  English,  though  ?  "  demanded  the 
captain.  "  I've  got  a  guide  with  me — Maria,  there— » 
who  speaks  Mexican  and  Apache." 

"  Does  he  savvy  Americano?  Sure  he  does,  beirf 
that  his  name's  Jimmie  Dunn,  an'  his  folks  were  both 
'Mericans  'fore  the  Taches  got  'em,  an*  he's  been 
brung  up  by  Joe  Felmer  at  Grant.  Speak  American? 
Speaks  it  better'n  I  do,  'cause  he  had  schoolin'  back 
East." 

"All  right.  I'll  take  him,  and  much  obliged  to 
you,"  said  the  captain.  "  Lived  with  Cochise,  did  he? 
How  was  that?" 

"  'Cause  he  couldn't  help  it.  Thar  warn't  any 
'  how '  to  it,  'cept  the  '  how '  o'  stayin'  close  an' 
playin'  possum  till  he  had  a  chance  to  skip  out.  The 
Chiricahua  jumped  him  an'  some  o'  Pete  Kitchen's 

127 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

sheep  south  o'  Tucson  a  couple  o'  year  ago,  an'  tuk 
him  along  same  time  they  tuk  yore  Mexican.  That 
Maria  Jilda  an'  him  were  captives  together.  He's 
chi-kis-n  to  Nah-che,  old  Cochise's  son.  But  he's 
plumb  American  ag'in,  now.  If  you  meet  up  with  any 
Taches  an'  want  to  talk  with  'em,  he'll  interpret  for 
you." 

"  Hah !  "  exclaimed  the  cavalry  captain,  eying  Jim- 
mie,  as  did  the  other  men.  "  He'll  do  finely,  then. 
Come  with  us,  boy.  We'll  return  you  to  your  outfit 
to-morrow.  Let's  go  on,  gentlemen." 

"  Wall,  I  don't  wish  you  any  hard  luck — or  that 
Gin'ral  Howard,  either,"  called  Jack,  after — for  Jack 
said  whatever  he  chose.  "  But  'cordin'  to  my  notion 
the  peacefulest  kind  o'  Chiricahua  is  a  dead  Chiricahua, 
an'  you  can  tell  Cochise  Jack  Long  says  so.  Hey, 
Jimmie !  "  continued  Jack.  "  You  tell  yore  chi-kis-n 
to  tell  his  dad  thar's  a  gent  in  a  canvas  suit,  up  at 
Whipple,  who's  comin'  down  hyar  pronto  (quick) 
with  a  double-bar '1  '  peace  policy '  guaranteed  to  turn 
wild  'Paches  into  tame  ones." 

They  left  Lieutenant  Almy's  little  detachment  start- 
ing onward,  and  old  Jack  grumbling  as  he  signaled  his 
pack  train  to  "  march." 


XI 

IN  THE  STRONGHOLD  OF  COCHISE 

RIDING  on  beside  Maria,  Jimmie  learned  more 
about  General  Howard  and  the  Chiricahuas. 

The  general  had  returned  as  far  as  the  Warm 
Spring  reservation  in  New  Mexico,  with  Pedro  and 
Miguel  and  Santos  and  the  other  delegates  to  Wash- 
ington. Then  he  had  engaged  two  Warm  Spring 
guides — young  Chie,  son  of  Mangas  Coloradas,  and 
Ponce,  son  of  another  of  Cochise' s  old-time  friends; 
and  with  them,  and  Captain  Sladen  his  aide,  and  Tom 
Jeffords,  a  red-haired,  red-bearded  American  trader 
whom  the  Chiricahuas  never  harmed,  he  had  proceeded 
right  on  west,  into  the  mountains,  to  find  Cochise. 

The  rest  of  his  party  he  had  dismissed,  to  wait  for 
word  from  him,  at  Bowie. 

It  had  been  anxious  waiting,  for  who  might  foretell 
what  Cochise  would  do?  But  suddenly,  one  day,  the 
general  had  appeared  again,  at  Bowie,  with  only  Chie 
as  companion.  He  had  met  Cochise,  in  the  Strong- 
hold ;  had  talked  with  him,  as  man  to  man ;  and  now  he 
was  here,  in  order  that  the  word  should  be  sent  out  all 
along  the  line :  "The  Cochise  Chiricahuas  have  prom- 
ised peace.  Do  not  interfere  with  them." 

With  that,  he  had  immediately  returned  to  the 
Stronghold;  and  now  Captain  S.  S.  Sumner,  com- 
manding Camp  Bowie,  and  several  of  his  officers  and  a 
few  civilians,  were  outward  bound,  to  be  present  at  the 
council. 

9  129 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"Do  you  think  that  the  Chiricahua  have  quit  for- 
ever, Maria?"  asked  Jimmie,  as  they  jogged  along. 

"  Maybe  yes,  maybe  no,"  replied  Maria,  shrugging 
his  shoulders.  "  If  they  might  believe  all  Americans 
like  they  believe  that  one-armed  man — but  who  knows  ? 
Anyway,  he  is  not  afraid,  and  he  speaks  truth.  What 
kind  of  a  man  is  that  other  general,  the  comandante 
named  Crook  ?  " 

"  They  can  believe  him,  too,"  asserted  Jimmie. 
"  He's  a  fighting  general,  and  a  peace  general,  both. 
He'll  carry  war  to  those  Apaches  that  stay  bad.  He's 
ready  now  to  move  against  the  Tonto." 

"  Good,"  grunted  Maria. 

The  abandoned  stage  station  of  Dragoon  Springs, 
on  the  west  slope  of  Dragoon  Pass,  had  been  appointed 
as  the  council  place.  No  Chiricahuas  and  no  token 
of  any  council  were  sighted  here;  but  a  stout,  broad- 
shouldered  officer  with  black  hair  and  heavy  "  shoe- 
brush  "  moustache  met  the  Captain  Sumner  party  in 
the  road. 

He  was  Captain  Sladen,  General  Howard's  aide. 
He  said  that  the  Chiricahuas  had  seen  soldiers  in  the 
road,  this  very  morning;  therefore  Cochise  insisted  that 
the  council  be  held  off  at  one  side,  where  the  Chiri- 
cahuas might  protect  themselves. 

Guided  by  Captain  Sladen  on  a  narrow  saddle  trail 
running  south,  the  party  rode  a  mile  or  two,  through 
a  rolling  park  of  grass  and  oaks  and  mountain  mahog- 
any— and  then  here  came  General  Howard  and  his 
Chiricahuas ! 

Haw,  haw !    Even  the  sober  Maria  laughed.    The 

130 


IT   WAS   THE    PIERCING-EYED   GERONIMf)! 


IN  THE  STRONGHOLD  OF  COCHISE 

general  was  aboard  a  mule,  and  behind  his  saddle  sat  a 
painted,  naked  Chiricahua,  holding  fast  with  both  arms 
around  the  general's  waist!  It  was  the  piercing-eyed 
Geronimo ! 

That  was  a  great  position  for  a  brevet  major- 
general  of  the  United  States  army;  but  it  looked 
"friendly"! 

A  large  cavalcade  of  warriors  painted  and 
weaponed  pranced  on  every  side.  They  left  a  little 
space  about  a  red-painted  horseman  who  stayed  near 
the  general. 

"Cochise,"  said  Maria.  "I  see  Taza,  too;  and 
Nah-che." 

The  Chiricahuas  uttered  a  loud  whoop.  At  signs 
from  the  red-painted  horseman  they  spread  right  and 
left  along  the  opposite  edge  of  this  park.  When  the 
Bowie  party  and  Captain  Sladen  arrived,  General 
Howard  and  the  Cochise  company  were  waiting. 

"  D'  yuh  notice?  "  remarked  Jack  May,  one  of  the 
men  who  had  been  sent  to  Bowie  by  the  general. 
"  Ev'ry  bronc'  ("  broncho  "  was  a  name  for  the  wild 
Chiricahuas)  is  stationed  where  he  can  dive  into  that 
little  canyon  an'  be  out  o'  sight  in  a  jiffy.  Those  fel- 
lows are  smart." 

Cochise  had  daubed  all  his  face  with  vermilion. 
He  seemed  tense  and  excited.  His  large  black  eyes 
darted  to  and  fro,  searching  for  treachery.  His  hair 
was  graying,  Jimmie  observed;  he  had  grown  much 
older. 

Taza  was  here.    And  in  the  background,  Chato 

131 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

and  Nah-che.  Jimmie  signed  to  Nah-che,  and  Nah-chc 
responded,  but  he  did  not  dare  to  come  over,  yet. 

The  council  was  begun  at  once,  with  General 
Howard  and  officers,  and  Cochise  and  his  captains,  sit- 
ting in  the  middle  of  the  circle. 

A  tall  red-bearded  man,  who  was  Tom  Jeffords  the 
trader,  did  the  interpreting. 

"  The  Great  White  Father  has  sent  me  to  make 
peace  between  the  Chiricahua  and  the  Americans/' 
said  General  Howard. 

"  Nobody  wants  peace  more  than  I  do,"  answered 
Cochise.  "  I  have  done  no  harm  since  I  came  from 
the  Canada  Alamosa.  My  horses  are  few,  and  I  am 
very  poor.  Once  we  were  a  large  people.  We  lived 
well,  at  peace  with  everybody  except  the  Mexicans.  But 
one  day  the  soldiers  seized  my  best  friend  and  killed 
him  when  he  was  in  prison.  Right  there  at  Apache 
Pass  other  soldiers  hung  up  my  brother,  after  they 
had  attacked  me  when  I  had  surrendered.  So  I  have 
fought  the  Americans  and  the  Mexicans,  but  the  Chiri- 
cahua are  getting  less  every  day.  Why  shut  us  up  on 
a  reservation?  We  will  keep  the  peace,  but  we  wish 
to  go  around  free,  the  same  as  other  people." 

"  That  cannot  be/'  kindly  explained  the  general. 
"  Some  bad  white  men  might  fire  on  you,  or  some  of 
your  wild  young  men  might  fire  at  the  white  men. 
Then  the  peace  would  be  broken.  The  Great  White 
Father,  who  is  President  Grant,  will  agree  that  you  live 
at  the  Canada  Alamosa.  That  is  a  fine  country,  and 
you  liked  it." 

"  We  would  be  there  now  if  the  white  people  had 

132 


IN  THE  STRONGHOLD  OF  COCHISE 

not  driven  us  off,"  answered  Cochise.  "  They  might 
drive  us  off  again,  and  I  will  not  go  to  the  Tularosa 
The  Apaches  there  get  sick,  and  die.  Give  me  Apache 
Pass.  That  is  my  home.  I  will  protect  all  the  trails. 
I  will  see  that  nobody  is  harmed  by  any  Indians.  But 
my  people  will  not  go  back  to  the  Canada  Alamosa. 
They  are  afraid.  They  would  not  be  allowed  to  stay 
there." 

"  Then,"  said  the  general,  "  we  will  give  you  this 
country  right  here.  We  cannot  give  you  Apache  Pass. 
tWe  will  fix  the  boundaries  at  once.  Does  that  suit 
you?" 

"  Yes,"  declared  Cochise,  pleased,  "  that  is  good. 
We  will  keep  my  Stronghold,  and  the  country  around, 
of  the  Dragoon  Mountains  and  the  Sulphur  Springs 
Valley." 

"  It  is  settled,"  agreed  the  general.  "  I  have  full 
authority  to  say  so.  This  shall  be  your  country  for- 
ever, if  you  keep  the  peace.  See,  I  place  this  stone 
upon  the  mesa."  He  moved  a  rock.  "  Now,  as  long 
as  this  stone  lasts,  so  long  shall  last  the  peace  between 
the  Chiricahua  and  the  Americans.  You  may  have 
your  friend  Tom  Jeffords  for  agent." 

"That  is  good,"  repeated  Cochise.  "  Staglito 
(Red  Beard)  is  our  friend." 

"  You  must  send  for  all  your  Chiricahua  to  come 
in.  Tell  them  that  when  they  are  off  the  traveled  roads 
they  must  show  a  white  flag  of  peace,  so  that  there  will 
be  no  mistakes.  When  they  are  on  a  traveled  road 
they  must  meet  other  people  without  any  running  or 
fear,  as  the  white  people  do." 

133 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"  That  is  good,"  approved  Cochise.  "  The  stone 
lies  on  the  mesa.  The  white  people  and  the  Chiri- 
cahua  will  drink  of  the  same  water  and  eat  of  the 
same  bread,  and  be  at  peace." 

Now  there  was  a  shaking  of  hands  all  around, 
and  the  general  and  Captain  Sumner  and  Tom  Jeffords 
proceeded  to  arrange  with  Cochise  and  Geronimo  the 
boundaries  of  the  Chiricahua  reservation. 

"  Let  us  talk  with  Nah-che,"  proposed  Jimmie,  to 
Maria.  There  had  been  no  call  for  them  in  the  inter- 
preting, and  now  was  their  chance  to  look  up  Nah-che. 

"  Chi-kis-n,"  greeted  Jimmie,  extending  his  hand 
to  grasp  Nah-che's. 

"  Welcome,  chi-kis-n,"  replied  Nah-che,  as  they 
shook. 

Nah-che  had  grown  into  almost  a  warrior. 

"HowisNah-da-ste?" 

"  She  is  not  here.  The  women  and  children  are 
in  another  place,  till  the  chiefs  know  whether  it  is  peace 
or  war." 

"  It  is  peace,  chi-kis-n." 

"  I  think  so,"  answered  Nah-che  frankly.  "  The 
Chiricahua  wish  peace.  They  will  keep  their  promise 
if  the  white  people  will  keep  theirs.  As  long  as  Stag- 
lito  stays  with  us,  there  will  be  no  trouble,  because  he 
understands  us.  All  these  wars  between  the  Ameri- 
cans and  the  Apaches  come  because  they  do  not  under- 
stand each  other.  I  think  if  there  were  more  one- 
armed  soldier-captains  there  would  be  fewer  wars. 
That  other  soldier-captain,  Cluke,  is  honest,  too,  we 
hear.  Why  doesn't  he  come  to  see  us  ?  " 

134 


IN  THE  STRONGHOLD  OF  COCHISE 

"  He  is  getting  ready  to  fight  those  Indians  who 
are  bad,"  said  Jimmie.  "  He  was  told  to  wait  until  the 
one-armed  general  had  offered  the  Chiricahua  peace. 
Now  he  will  go  to  war  against  the  Tonto  and  the 
Yavapai,  who  have  refused  peace/' 

Taza  joined  them,  and  shook  hands.  He  was 
carrying  a  beautiful  breech-loading  rifle — an  officer's 
rifle.  Eying  it  curiously,  Jimmie  suddenly  recognized 
it.  It  had  been  the  rifle  of  stripling  Lieutenant  Reid 
Stewart,  the  dandy  "shave  tail " — it  was  the  only  one 
of  its  kind — engraved  so  fancifully;  that  is,  Jimmie  had 
seen  the  lieutenant  with  it,  at  Camp  Grant;  and  now 
Taza  had  it! 

Taza  must  have  noticed  Jimmie  stiffen  and  choke, 
for  he  said,  in  Spanish : 

"No  trieste,  hermano  (Do  not  feel  badly, 
brother)."  And  in  Apache,  "  We  all  do  things  in  war 
that  we  would  not  do  in  peace." 

^Nevertheless,  on  the  way  to  Camp  Bowie,  after  the 
council,  Jimmie  could  not  forget  the  sign  of  Lieuten- 
ant Reid's  rifle,  in  the  Chiricahua  camp.  He  was  such 
a  young  officer,  to  have  been  killed  so  soon,  without 
having  had  a  chance  to  defend  himself.  And  Cochise 
had  declared  that  his  people  had  done  no  harm  since 
leaving  the  Canada  Alamosa! 

But  then,  that  was  Indian  way.  And  Apaches  had 
been  killed,  too,  by  the  white  men.  War  was  a  cruel 
game. 

General  Howard  did  not  return  to  Camp  Bowie. 
He  had  gone  the  other  way,  to  Tucson,  with  his  party 
and  his  ambulance.  From  Tucson  he  was  going  to  San 

135 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

Francisco,  to  report  to  General  Schofield;  and  from 
there  he  was  going  to  Washington. 

He  certainly  had  accomplished  a  great  work, 
only 

"  Will  the  peace  last  as  long  as  the  stone,  do  you 
think,  Maria?  "  asked  Jimmie. 

"  The  white  people  will  break  the  stone,  amigo 
mio,"  said  Maria.  "  Some  day  they  will  break  the 
stone,  because  they  want  the  land  where  it  lies.  Then 
there  will  be  war  again,  and  you  and  I  will  fight 
Nah-che.  But  Cochise  spoke  straight.  The  Chiri- 
cahua  in  Arizona  are  tired.  Did  you  hear  about  the 
joke  on  the  one-armed  general?  " 

"  No." 

"  Nyle-chie-zie,  who  is  Cochise's  brother-in-law, 
wanted  to  trade  two  of  his  young  wives  to  the  general 
for  the  general's  four  wagon-mules.  The  general  said 
he  already  had  a  wife.  But  the  girls  said  that  made 
no  difference ;  they  would  all  get  along  together  nicely. 
If  the  general  had  not  explained  that  the  laws  of  the 
Americans  forbade  him  to  have  more  than  one  wife 
at  a  time,  he  might  have  been  in  much  trouble,  I  think. 

"  Yes,  many  wives  at  once  are  a  trouble,"  asserted 
Ponce,  who,  with  Chie,  was  returning  to  the  Warm 
Spring  bands.  "  The  soldier-captain  saw  Cochise's 
hand.  That  is  why  he  refused  the  two  girls!  " 

"What  was  the  matter  with  Cochise's  hand?" 
queried  Jimmie. 

They  all  were  talking  in  Apache. 

"  Those  two  big  holes  in  it  are  where  one  of  his 
wives  bit  him.  He  was  afraid  he  would  be  sick,  so 
he  burned  the  places." 

136 


IN  THE  STRONGHOLD  OF  COCHISE 

"  The  one-armed  soldier-captain  is  very  wise/' 
laughed  Chie.  "  He  does  not  wish  to  lose  the  only 
hand  he  has." 

"  But  it  is  true  that  white  people  are  allowed  only 
one  wife  at  a  time/'  insisted  Jimmie.  However,  Ponce 
and  Chie  did  not  act  as  though  they  believed  this. 

Camp  Bowie  was  reached  early  the  next  morning. 
It  was  a  small  army  post,  about  the  size  of  Grant,  com- 
posed of  log  and  adobe  buildings  set  in  a  clearing  on  a 
hill  in  the  middle  of  the  celebrated  Apache  Pass  over 
the  Chiricahua  Mountains  that  extended  on  south- 
ward into  Mexico.  The  pass  was  long  and  rolling, 
between  high  brushy,  thinly  timbered  slopes.  Bowie 
commanded  the  stage  road  both  ways  for  two  or  three 
miles. 

This  had  been  Cochise's  favorite  resort,  in  former 
days.  At  the  east  end  of  the  pass  was  where  his 
brother  had  been  hanged,  after  the  fracas  eleven  years 
ago,  or  in  1861.  There  had  been  no  Camp  Bowie, 
then;  only  the  stage  station. 

But  Bowie  was  established  the  next  year,  1862 — 
the  same  year  as  Camp  Grant — and  like  Camp  Grant, 
since  that  time  it  had  been  trailing  Apaches  almost 
every  day.  What  with  the  attacks  on  the  stages,  east 
and  west,  and  on  livestock,  and  what  with  the  vengeful 
ambushing  of  the  soldiers  themselves,  by  the  Chiri- 
cahuas,  anybody  stationed  at  Bowie  was  certain  to 
have  plenty  of  excitement.  Why,  the  graveyard  there 
was  enough  to  give  one  the  shudders.  It  was  a  famous 
graveyard. 

Before  inspecting  the  graveyard,  Jimmie  reported 

187 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

to  Jack  Long.  Jack  and  the  pack  train  were  here. 
So  was  Lieutenant  Almy,  being  entertained  by  brother 
officers  of  the  Fifth  and  Third  Cavalry. 

"So  it's  sure  'nough  peace,  is  it?"  commented 
Patron  Jack,  after  he  had  heard  the  story  of  every- 
thing that  had  occurred  near  Dragoon  Springs.  "  All 
right.  Gin'ral  Howard  means  well,  like  as  not.  But 
did  you  tell  old  Cochise  what  I  said ?  No?  Humph! 
One  thing's  sartin,  anyhow :  if  he  was  put  on  trial  be- 
fore a  jury  o'  Arizony  people,  they'd  vote  yewnanimous 
to  hang  him  an'  half  his  band.  Yes,  sir-ee." 

"  You  bet  yuh,"  chimed  in  Slim  Shorty,  the  cencero. 

And,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  when  the  general  arrived 
at  Tucson,  the  newspaper  and  people  there  talked  just 
as  Jack  talked.  They  said  that  Cochise  should  be 
punished,  instead  of  being  granted  a  reservation,  and 
his  Stronghold,  for  his  own.  Nevertheless,  Cochise 
stayed  there,  true  to  his  word,  until  he  died,  in  1874; 
and  Taza  also  kept  from  war,  until  in  1876  he  died. 
But  with  Geronimo  and  Nah-che  matters  went  differ- 
ent, just  as  Maria  prophesied. 

"  Now  I  will  show  you  the  graveyard,  amigo," 
proffered  Maria,  when  Jimmie  had  been  dismissed  from 
duty,  by  old  Jack. 

The  graveyard  really  was  about  the  only  thing  of 
consequence  to  see,  at  Bowie.  It  was  the  largest  grave- 
yard at  any  of  the  army  posts  in  Arizona.  The  many 
wooden  slabs,  marking  the  resting-place  of  soldier 
and  traveler,  read  much  alike,  except  for  the  names. 

"  Killed  by  the  Apaches."  "  At  the  Hands  of  the 
Apaches."  "Victim  of  the  Apaches."  "Met  his 

138 


IN  THE  STRONGHOLD  OF  COCHISE 

Death  by  Apaches."  "  Of  Wounds  Inflicted  by  the 
Apaches."  And  so  forth,  and  so  forth. 

Maria  seemed  to  be  proud  of  this  collection,  but 
it  was  too  melancholy  for  Jimmie.  He  was  very  glad 
when,  on  a  sudden,  a  series  of  loud  whoops  attracted 
his  attention.  A  short,  brick-topped,  familiar  figure  in 
old  shirt  outside  of  old  trousers,  was  beckoning  to 
him,  on  -the  way  from  the  parade  ground.  A  trumpet 
was  blowing  "  Boots  and  Saddles,"  cavalrymen  were 
running  to  the  stables,  and  packers  were  hustling  at 
the  post  mule-corral. 

So  Jimmie  legged  back,  to  find  out  what  was  up. 
Micky  Free,  the  red-head,  met  him,  and  grinned  de- 
lightedly, his  one  blue  eye  sparkling.  Micky  had 
started  a  moustache,  red  like  his  hair.  He  showed 
hard  travel. 

"  Hello,  Cheemie.  Your  patron  says  for  you  to 
come  quick,  if  you  want  to  go  to  Camp  Apache." 

"When  did  you  get  in,  Micky?"  panted  Jimmie, 
as  they  trotted  on  together. 

"  Just  now.  Alchise  (Al-chi-say)  and  I  bring  dis- 
patches. The  canvas  suit  general  is  at  Camp  Apache, 
and  everybody  is  to  join  him  there,  to  go  against  the 
Tonto." 


XII 

GENERAL  CROOK  RIDES  AGAIN 

"  THAT'S  right,"  Patron  Jack  was  urging,  among 
the  fast  working  men.  "  Move  yore  feet,  hombres,  or 
the  cavalry'll  beat  you.  The  old  man's  up  yonder, 
waitin'  on  his  mule,  with  both  bar'ls  loaded.  Mebbe 
it's  peace  in  the  south  but  it's  war  in  the  north/'  And 
to  Jimmie:  "  Say,  muchacho!  Thar's  livelier  things'n 
graveyards.  We're  goin'  after  Chuntz  an'  the  rest  o' 
those  boy  murderers.  So  you  jump  an'  help  the  cook." 

Alchise  and  Micky  Free  had  brought  orders  from 
General  Crook  at  Camp  Apache  to  Lieutenant  Almy 
to  join  him  there  at  once  with  all  the  cavalry  and 
pack-mules  that  could  be  spared  from  Camp  Bowie. 

Of  course,  the  orders  had  not  explained  why;  but 
the  busy-minded  Micky  asserte'd  that  everybody  at 
Apache  knew  why :  they  knew  why,  because  the  Sierra 
Blanca  or  White  Mountains  had  been  asked  to  send 
their  young  men  with  the  soldiers  and  help  to  drive 
the  bad  Tontos  and  Apache-Mohaves  out  of  the  Tonto 
Basin.  These  Tontos  and  Yavapais  were  making 
trouble  between  the  white  men  and  the  red. 

The  pack-train  was  ready  first.  In  an  hour  the 
cavalry  were  ready,  and  the  column  moved  out  of 
Bowie,  for  Camp  Apache,  two  hundred  miles  by  trail 
north  across  the  mountains. 

Maria  had  to  stay  behind,  at  Bowie. 

"  Good-by,  amigos,"  he  bade,  to  Jimmie  and  Micky. 

140 


GENERAL  CROOK  RIDES  AGAIN 

"  Some  day  we  will  go  together  against  the  Chiricahua, 
with  your  Crook." 

There  were  fifty  cavalry,  mainly  of  the  Fifth  Regi- 
ment, and  some  fifty  pack-mules  which  carried  only 
supplies  for  the  march.  Micky  and  Alchise  led  by 
the  best  trail,  so  that  the  trip  was  made  in  five  days. 

Now  Jimmie  had  an  opportunity  to  see  the  famous 
Camp  Apache,  in  the  grassy,  well  timbered  and  well 
watered  Sierra  Blanca  or  White  Mountains  of  north- 
eastern Arizona.  By  reason  of  the  fine  hunting  and 
fishing,  and  scenery  and  climate,  it  was  considered  to 
be  the  prize  army  post  of  the  Southwest. 

It  had  been  located  in  1870,  and  was  at  first  called 
Camp  Ord,  and  Camp  Thomas.  The  Chiricahuas  had 
sneered  at  the  White  Mountain  Apaches,  who  had  per- 
mitted a  soldier  fort  to  be  established  among  them. 
But  Chiefs  Pedro  and  Miguel  and  Pi-to-ne  and  all  had 
continued  to  live  just  west  of  the  post,  and  to  remain 
tame  Indians.  In  this  they  were  wise. 

With  the  twelve  hundred  tame  Indians,  and  the 
many  soldiers,  some  infantry  but  the  majority  cavalry, 
Camp  Apache  proved  to  be  a  stirring  place.  General 
Crook  had  arrived,  with  his  escort;  clear  from  Fort 
Whipple,  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  west.  He  had 
traveled  fast,  breaking  camp  by  four  o'clock  every 
morning,  and  now  he  was  hustling  matters  so  that  he 
might  set  out  for  Camp  Grant,  to  the  southwest,  and 
organize  an  expedition  from  there. 

Lieutenant  Bourke  was  at  work  enlisting  the  White 
Mountain  young  men.  Most  of  the  White  Mountains 
were  very  anxious  to  take  the  war-path  against  the 

141 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

bothersome  outlaw  Tontos  and  Yavapais.  Alchise  en- 
listed, so  did  Na-kay-do-klunni,  so  did  a  sub-chief 
named  Es-qui-nos-quiz-n  or  Big  Mouth,  so  did  Nan- 
ta-je  (Nan-tah-hay),  a  Coyotero;  so  did  nearly  one 
hundred  others. 

Micky  knew  every  one  of  them.  But  his  band  was 
the  Chief  Pedro  band. 

"  Are  you  coming,  Micky?  "  eagerly  asked  Jimmie. 

"  Maybe.  I  will  wait  and  see,  Cheemie,  until  I 
can  tell  where  there'll  be  the  best  fighting." 

"We'll  catch  the  Tonto,  won't  we,  Micky?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  assured  Micky.  "  That  Cluke  is  cun- 
ning. All  the  way  over  he  saw  that  the  water  of  the 
high  places  was  frozen ;  winter  has  come  and  the  Tonto 
and  Yavapai  will  be  staying  home.  They  cannot  move 
their  rancherias,  easy.  I  will  go  to  Camp  Grant  with 
you,  anyway,"  added  Micky.  "  But  don't  say  so,  to 
other  people.  I  am  not  an  Apache.  I  will  do  as  I 
please." 

General  Crook  did  not  delay  an  instant  at  Camp 
Apache  after  he  had  turned  his  orders  into  action. 
Upon  the  second  morning  after  the  arrival  of  the  rein- 
forcements from  Camp  Bowie  he  started,  with  cavalry 
and  pack-mules  and  those  White  Mountain  scouts  who 
were  ready,  for  Camp  Grant. 

He  directed  that  the  rest  of  the  Apache  scouts  were 
to  follow,  in  three  days.  They  would  find  many  other 
Indians  at  Camp  Grant,  who  would  try  to  be  braver 
than  the  Sierra  Blanca. 

"  My  young  men  will  show  how  the  White  Moun- 
tains can  fight,"  had  answered  old  Pedro. 

142 


GENERAL  CROOK  RIDES  AGAIN 

General  Crook  was  in  a  great  hurry. 

"  Yuh  see,"  explained  Patron  Jack,  to  the  men 
who  were  astonished  by  being  roused  out  at  two  in  the 
morning  and  led  on  without  a  halt  until  late  afternoon, 
"  the  old  man's  promised  to  meet  a  lot  more  chiefs  at 
Grant,  besides  those  Sierra  Blancas,  an'  he  knows  he's 
got  to  keep  his  word.  If  you  don't  keep  yore  word 
with  Injuns,  they  call  you  a  liar." 

The  distance  by  trail  from  Apache  to  Grant  was  a 
little  more  than  one  hundred  miles — but  each  mile,  as 
Cargador  Frank  Monach  put  it,  meant  one  mile  up,  two 
miles  down,  and  one  mile  across !  Alchise  and  Archie 
Macintosh  the  Hudson  Bay  trapper,  were  the  guides. 
Micky  Free  had  not  appeared,  at  the  start ;  and  when 
Jimmie,  disappointed,  inquired  about  him  of  Alchise, 
Alchise  claimed  to  know  nothing  about  Micky.  He 
only  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  grunted: 

"  Maybe  come,  maybe  stay.    Who  can  tell  ?  " 

The  second  day's  march  was  terrific,  into  canyons 
and  out  again ;  and  when  darkness  fell  the  column  was 
still  struggling  to  find  a  camping-place.  The  mules 
and  the  cavalry  horses  had  all  they  could  do  to  keep 
their  feet  amidst  the  brush  and  rocks ;  the  general  rode 
from  head  to  rear,  encouraging,  and  looking  after  men 
and  mules — he  sought  no  rest,  for  himself,  and  every- 
body worked  like  a  demon.  But  Alchise  and  Archie 
Macintosh,  in  trying  a  short  cut,  had  missed  the  trail. 

Jimmie  was  toiling  and  urging  with  the  rest,  in  the 
depths  of  a  star-canopied  black  canyon,  when  he  heard 
a  laugh,  close  at  his  ear,  and  a  voice  that  said,  in 
Apache : 

143 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"  Why  do  you  work  so  hard,  Boy-who-sleeps  ?  Are 
you  afraid  the  Tonto  will  get  away  ?  " 

It  was  Micky  Free,  bareback  on  a  mule.  He  could 
scarcely  be  seen,  but  Jimmie  recognized  his  speech. 

"Where  did  you  come  from?"  demanded  Jimmie 
crossly. 

"  Oh,  I  am  here,"  laughed  Micky.  "  I  know  all 
this  country  very  well.  I  told  you  I  was  going  to 
Camp  Grant." 

"  Then  you'd  better  get  to  work,"  retorted  Jimmie. 
"  I  haven't  any  time  to  talk." 

"No,  I  didn't  come  to  work;  I  came  to  fight  the 
Tonto,"  laughed  Micky.  "  But  the  rest  of  you  had 
better  work,  or  I'll  be  the  only  one  to  get  to  Camp 
Grant." 

Amidst  the  hurly-burly  of  stumbling  mules  and 
perspiring  packers  Jimmie  lost  him,  and  did  not  sight 
him  again  until  long  after  sunrise  the  next  morning, 
when  at  last  the  command  was  out  of  the  canyons  and 
the  wearied  pack-train  followed  the  cavalry  into  camp. 

Micky  was  already  there,  ahead,  squatting  beside 
Alchise.  He  arose  and  came  back  to  where  Jimmie 
was  helping  Slim  Shorty,  the  cook. 

"Alchise  says  there  will  be  some  good  fights, 
Cheemie,"  remarked  Micky.  "  Now  I  want  you  to 
take  me  to  your  general,  so  that  he  will  know  who 
I  am." 

"  Aw,  pshaw,  Micky!  "  protested  Jimmie.  And  in 
Apache :  "  I  can't.  I'm  busy.  The  general  wants  to 
eat  and  sleep,  and  so  do  I." 

"Who  is  this  one-eye?"  asked  Slim  Shorty. 
"  Where's  he  from  an'  what's  his  trouble  ?  " 

144 


GENERAL  CROOK  RIDES  AGAIN 

"  His  name's  Micky  Free.  He  was  with  the  Pedro 
band  and  helped  me  get  away  from  the  Chiricahua. 
He  asks  me  to  take  him  to  the  general. " 

"  What!  Tell  him  to  chase  himself.  Tain't  any 
time  for  payin'  social  visits/'  growled  Slim  Shorty. 
"  It's  grub  time  an'  sleep  time,  an'  you're  workin'  for 
me.  Savvy  that  ? "  Slim  Shorty  was  cross,  like 
everyone  else.  Twenty-six  hours  straight  had  they 
been  climbing  and  threshing  about. 

"  Here  comes  your  general  now,"  prompted  Micky. 
"  He  doesn't  eat  or  sleep.  You  can  take  me  to  him 
when  he  passes,  Cheemie." 

Sure  enough,  General  Crook,  on  the  faithful  mule 
"  Apache/'  was  ambling  slowly  from  group  to  group, 
through  the  camp;  in  his  stained  canvas  suit,  his  shot 
gun  across  his  saddle !  He  seemed  to  be  on  a  tour  of 
inspection,  with  particular  regard  for  the  pack-mules. 

As  he  passed,  the  men  stiffened  to  their  feet,  and 
stood  at  attention.  He  dropped  a  word  here  and  there, 
and  halted  briefly  at  Slim  Shorty's  fire.  Slim  stood  at 
attention,  so  did  Jimmie,  but  Micky  only  waited,  red- 
headed, lightly  clad,  grinning  amiably. 

"  Feed  your  men  well,  cook,"  bade  the  general. 
"  They've  earned  double  rations.  I  see  you've  got  a 
good  supply  of  beans.  That's  right.  Always  set  your 
beans  to  cook  the  night  before,  and  they'll  be  much  more 
wholesome." 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  Slim  Shorty.  "But  these 
hyar  beans  won't  be  done  till  noon.  There  warn't  any 
'  night  before/  this  last  trip.  Got  plenty  bread,  bacon 
an'  coffee,  though." 

10  146 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"  Oh,  in  that  case ,"  smiled  the  general.  His 

face  was  a  little  drawn,  but  he  didn't  look  especially 
tired,  and  neither  did  Apache.  "  How  are  you,  my 
lad  ?  "  he  queried,  of  Jimmie,  and  his  eyes  fell  upon 
•Micky.  "  Who's  this  ?  I  didn't  know  he  was  with 
the  column.  I've  seen  him  at  Camp  Apache.  His 
name  is  Micky  Free." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Jimmie.  "He  lives  with 
Chief  Pedro's  band  of  Sierra  Blanca.  He  helped  me 
get  away  from  the  Chiricahua  camp,  that  time." 

"He's  not  Apache?" 

"  No,  sir.     He's  half  Mexican  and  half  Irish." 

"  What's  he  doing  here  ?  Is  he  enlisted  with  the 
scouts?" 

"  I  don't  think  so,  sir,"  faltered  Jimmie.  "  Not 
with  the  Apache  scouts.  He  isn't  Indian.  He  fol- 
lowed us.  He  asked  me  to  tell  you  that  he  wants  to 
fight  the  Tonto,  though." 

"  Well,  well.  That's  all  right,  but  I  haven't  time 
to  tend  to  that  now,  my  boy,"  replied  the  general. 
"  I'm  going  after  some  breakfast.  Let  him  report  to 
Lieutenant  Bourke.  Bourke  has  charge  of  the  scouts. 
When  we  get  to  Grant  we'll  give  him  a  chance  to  fight." 
And  the  general  rode  on.  He  kept  going,  until  he  dis- 
appeared around  a  shoulder  in  some  low  ground.  He 
did  not  return  for  two  hours,  and  then  be  brought  back 
a  load  of  reed  birds,  for  the  officers'  mess.  What  a 
man! 

"  What  did  he  say?"  inquired  Micky,  who  spoke 
no  English,  of  Jimmie. 

"  He  said  to  have  you  report  to  Lieutenant  Bourke, 

146 


GENERAL  CROOK  RIDES  AGAIN 

and  when  we  got  to  Grant  you  would  be  shown 
fighting." 

"  That  is  good,"  approved  Micky.  "  I  don't  care 
anything  about  your  Lieutenant  Bourke,  but  the  general 
has  promised  me  righting  and  I  like  him.  I  will  go 
to  Grant,  and  then  we  will  chase  the  Tonto  with  the 
general,  Cheemie;  you  and  I." 

So  saying,  Micky  strolled  away,  to  eat  with  Alchise. 
Throughout  the  remainder  of  the  march  to  Camp  Grant 
he  did  about  as  he  pleased:  sometimes  he  rode  in  ad- 
vance, with  Alchise  and  Archie  Macintosh ;  and  some- 
times he  rode  with  Jimmie,  at  the  rear ;  and  sometimes 
he  vanished,  to  explore  on  his  own  hook.  But  he 
always  turned  up  at  meal  times ! 

With  his  ragged  clothes,  and  his  red  head  and  his 
smudgy  reddish  upper  lip  and  his  one  bright  blue  eye, 
Micky  was  a  privileged  character. 

Camp  Grant  was  reached  exactly  on  time,  and  for 
the  next  three  days  of  this  first  week  in  November  it 
was  a  busy  place.  Dispatch  bearers  came  and  went; 
Chief  Packer  Tom  Moore  was  here,  from  Whipple; 
one  hundred  White  Mountain  scouts  arrived,  under 
Chief  Es-qui-nos-quiz-n  or  Big  Mouth;  Pima  and 
Maricopa  chiefs  were  waiting,  to  talk  with  "  Cluke  " 
and  find  out  what  he  wanted ;  word  came  that  the  Hual- 
pais  were  ready,  for  they  also  hated  the  Apaches,  as 
the  Pimas  and  Maricopas  did.  But  Chief  Es-kim-en- 
zin  refused  to  let  any  of  his  young  men  enlist;  the 
Arivaipas  had  friends  among  the  outlaw  Pinals  who 
ranged  near  the  Tonto  Basin. 

Every  officer  and  enlisted  man  and  pack-mule  that 

147 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

could  be  spared  from  the  various  posts,  and  every 
Indian  who  could  be  trusted  off  the  reservations,  was 
called  into  service.  Jimmie  felt  certain  that  he  ought 
to  be  included ;  he  had  done  his  level  best,  on  the  trip 
around  by  Bowie  and  Apache — nobody  had  worked 
harder.  So  he  anxiously  consulted  Joe  Felmer. 

"  Wall,  you  see  it's  this  way,"  said  Joe:  "  I'm  goin' 
as  scout — Archie  Macintosh,  Tony  Besias,  an'  me, 
'long  with  the  Major  Brown  column.  That  keeps  us 
in  advance,  an'  'twon't  be  any  place  for  a  boy.  This 
is  war.  So  you  stick  'round  old  Jack;  he'll  boss  the 
pack-train,  an*  I  happen  to  know  that  he  thinks  purty 
well  o'  you.  He  says  you  tended  strictly  to  bus'ness, 
an'  obeyed  orders." 

Jimmie  looked  up  Patron  Jack. 

"  Shore  thing,  muchacho,"  answered  Jack.  "  I 
told  you  I'd  make  a  fust-class  packer  of  you,  an'  I  will. 
Yon  fetch  yore  war-bag  an'  fall  in  ready  to  help  the 
cook'  an'  by  the  time  we're  out  o'  the  Tonto  Basin  with 
old  Chuntz's  scalp  mebbe  you'll  get  a  second-class 
ratin'." 

Hurrah !  It  was  only  proper,  too,  for  Chief  Chuntz 
had  murdered  little  Francisco,  and  had  not  little  Fran- 
cisco been  his,  Jimmie's,  partner  ?  Everybody  at  Grant 
was  particularly  eager  to  kill  or  capture  Chuntz. 

"  To-morrow  we  start,"  remarked  Micky.  "  Where 
is  the  Gray  Fox,  Cheemie?" 

"Who is  that,  Micky?" 

"Cuke.  He  is  the  Gray  Fox,  because  of  his 
smartness  and  his  dirt-color  clothes.  All  the  Indians 
are  calling  him  the  Gray  Fox.  Where  is  he?  " 

148 


GENERAL  CROOK  RIDES  AGAIN 

"  I  don't  know.  He  is  visiting  other  forts,  getting 
the  soldiers  ready." 

And  that  was  true.  General  Crook  was  leaving 
nothing  at  loose  ends,  but  instead  of  issuing  his  orders 
from  headquarters,  was  overseeing  the  details  in  per- 
son. He  never  tired. 

"  I  would  rather  follow  him  on  the  war  trail," 
continued  Micky.  "  But  if  he  is  not  here  I  shall  go 
with  Big  Mouth  and  Nan-ta-je  and  Lieutenant  Bourke, 
and  you.  It  will  mean  fighting.  We  will  find  the 
Tonto  and  Yavapai.  That  I  know." 

"  IHow  do  you  know,  Micky  ?"  asked  Jimmie  curi- 
iously — for  Micky  spoke  assuredly. 

"  I  know  it  from  Nan-ta-je.  Why  he  knows  I 
cannot  tell  you  now,  but  you  will  see."  And  with  that, 
the  mysterious  red-headed  Micky  became  Indian,  and 
refused  to  utter  another  word  on  the  subject. 

As  far  as  Jimmie  could  learn  from  Joe  Felmer  and 
Jack  Long  and  the  talk  at  the  post,  the  plan  for  the 
campaign  was  as  follows : 

The  troops  and  scouts  at  Camp  Apache,  under  Ma- 
jor George  M.  Randall,  of  the  Twenty-third  Infantry, 
were  to  work  in  toward  the  Tonto  Basin  from  the  east. 
The  Camp  Grant  column,  under  Brevet  Major  W.  H. 
Brown,  were  to  work  up  from  the  south.  From  the 
far  northwest,  at  Camp  Hualpai,  Colonel  Julius  W. 
Mason  (who  had  roundly  threshed  the  Apache- 
Mohaves  that  had  conspired  to  assassinate  General 
Crook  at  Date  Creek,  last  summer)  was  to  march 
down  with  his  Fifth  Cavalry  and  some  Hualpais. 
From  Date  Creek  to  the  southwest  Captain  George  F. 

149 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

Price,  of  the  Fifth  Cavalry,  should  come  on;  and  from 
the  west  the  Fort  Whipple  column,  under  Major  Alex- 
ander MacGregor,  of  the  First  Cavalry,  and  the  Camp 
Verde  First  Cavalry  under  Colonel  C.  C.  C.  Carr,  and 
the  Camp  McDowell  Fifth  Cavalry  and  Pimas  and 
Maricopas  under  Captain  "  Jimmie "  Burns,  were  to 
complete  the  circle. 

They  all  were  to  clean  the  country  as  they  advanced, 
and  close  in  on  the  Tonto  Basin. 

Just  before  the  Camp  Grant  column  started,  the 
general's  final  orders  were  read  to  all  the  soldiers  and 
scouts,  in  line.  It  was  to  be  a  fight  to  a  finish.  The 
Indians  who  would  not  surrender  must  be  pursued 
until  killed  or  captured.  Women  and  children  should 
not  be  harmed,  if  possible.  Prisoners  were  to  be  well 
treated.  Men  prisoners  should  be  enlisted  as  scouts, 
when  they  were  willing  to  serve ;  and  full  use  should  be 
made  of  them,  to  discover  the  hiding-places  of  the  other 
wild  Apaches.  And 

"  The  general  commanding  the  Department  wishes 
to  state  that  no  excuse  will  be  accepted  for  leaving  a 
trail.  If  the  horses  become  unfit  for  service,  the  enemy 
must  be  followed  on  foot.  He  expects  that  no  sacrifice 
shall  be  left  untried  by  officers  and  men,  to  make  the 
campaign  short,  sharp  and  decisive." 

Antonio  Besias  the  interpreter  and  guide  translated 
the  orders  for  the  Apache  scouts.  At  his  first  oppor- 
tunity, Micky  asked  Jimmie  to  repeat  them.  Nan-ta-je 
also  listened  attentively.  He  grunted  satisfaction. 

"  That  is  good,"  commented  Micky.  "  It  is  straight 
talk.  We  will  find  what  we  are  looking  for." 

150 


GENERAL  CROOK  RIDES  AGAIN 

The  Major  Brown  column  out  of  Camp  Grant  con- 
sisted of  Companies  L  and  M  of  the  Fifth  Cavalry, 
commanded  by  Captain  Alfred  B.  Taylor  and  Lieuten- 
ant Jacob  Almy,  Lieutenant  (Brevet  Major)  William 
J.  Ross,  of  the  Twenty-first  Infantry,  who  had  won 
honors  in  the  Civil  War,  and  Lieutenant  John  G. 
Bourke,  of  the  Third  Cavalry,  who  had  been  General 
Crook's  aide-de-camp.  They  were  all  good  fighting 
men.  Then  there  were  thirty  Sierra  Blanca  Apache 
scouts  i — Chief  Big  Mouth,  Alchise  who  was  called 
Alchisay,  Nan-ta-je  whom  the  soldiers  nicknamed 
"  Joe,"  Na-kay-do-klun-ni  who  was  nicknamed  "  Bobby 
Do-klinny,"  and  the  others,  managed  by  Joe  Felmer, 
Archie  Macintosh  and  Antonio  Besias.  Then  there 
was  the  pack-train  of  fifty  mules,  in  charge  of  Pack- 
Master  Jack  Long  and  Assistant  Frank  Monach,  and 
ten  such  first-class  packers  as  Jim  O'Neill,  Chileno 
John,  "  Long  Jim  "  Cook  and  "  Short  Jim  "  Cook, 
Manuel  Lopez,  old  Sam  Wisser  the  German,  with  Slim 
Shorty  as  cook  and  John  Cahill  as  blacksmith — -men 
tried  and  true.  Then  there  was  Mr.  James  Daily,  Gen- 
eral Crook's  brother-in-law  who  had  come  out  to  Whip- 
pie  last  spring  with  his  sister  Mrs.  Crook,  and  was 
"  seeing  the  country  "  with  the  cavalry ;  and  Micky 
Free,  who  might  be  counted  as  a  sort  of  "  detached  " 
scout. 

Altogether,  Jimmie  felt  convinced,  this  was  the  best 
column  in  the  field.  As  Patron  Jack  asserted,  it  could 
"  lick  its  weight  in  wild-cats." 


151 


XIII 

HUNTING  THE  YAVAPAI 

"  Now  Apache  catch  Apache,"  announced  Micky. 

It  was  a  sharply  chill  evening,  December  27,  this 
1872,  and  under  a  clouded  sky  the  whole  Major  Brown 
command  were  encamped  together  in  the  little  canyon 
of  Cottonwood  Creek,  about  seventy-five  miles  north- 
west of  Camp  Grant. 

Not  far  west  rose  the  long,  high  plateau  of  the 
Mazatzal  or  Four  Peaks  Range,  through  which  the  Salt 
River  cut  a  deep,  crooked  trail  toward  Camp  Mac- 
Dowell  on  the  other  side. 

But  the  seventy-five  miles  was  only  a  small  portion 
of  the  distance  that  had  been  covered.  The  Major 
Brown  column  out  of  Grant  had  been  marching  north, 
west,  south,  and  north  again,  for  more  than  a  month ; 
sometimes  in  cactus  and  sunshine,  sometimes  in  snow 
and  storm,  ever  trying  to  corral  the  Chuntz  and  Delt- 
che  outlaws. 

These  were  hard  to  find.  In  this  rough  canyon 
country  they  had  made  their  homes  for  years  and 
years.  They  knew  every  inch  of  it.  Only  the  Sierra 
Blanca  scouts,  who  were  afoot,  in  silent  moccasins, 
and  kept  a  day's  march  ahead,  had  had  any  luck.  Twice 
they  had  struck  small  rancherias ;  and  they  had  killed 
four  or  five  warriors. 

Micky  hunted  with  the  scouts,  daytimes ;  and  each 
night,  when  in  camp,  he  had  great  stories  to  tell.  It 
all  was  a  lark,  to  Micky  the  red-head.  He  had  cap- 

152 


HUNTING  THE  YAVAPAI 

tured  a  rifle,  in  one  of  the  Chuntz  jacals  or  huts,  and 
now  was  very  happy.  He  seemed  rather  to  pity 
Jimmie,  who  was  held  to  the  plodding,  scrambling 
pack-train,  at  the  rear. 

Still,  duty  was  duty,  and  business  was  business ;  and 
the  pack-train  was  as  important  as  the  soldiers  or  the 
scouts.  Without  the  pack-train,  then  the  expedition 
needs  must  quit  or  starve — and  what  would  General 
Crook  say  ? 

On  Christmas  Day  forty  men  of  Company  G,  Fifth 
Cavalry,  commanded  by  Captain  "  Jimmie  "  Burns  and 
Lieutenant  Earl  D.  Thomas,  with  pack-train  and  almost 
one  hundred  Pima  Indian  scouts,  all  from  Camp  Mao 
Dowell,  had  joined. 

They'd  had  some  luck.  On  the  top  of  the  Four 
Peaks  they  had  surprised  a  Yavapai  rancheria  (one  of 
Delt-che's,  they  thought),  had  killed  six  Indians  and 
captured  a  squaw  and  a  little  boy.  They  had  brought 
the  boy  along,  because  he  could  kill  quail  with  stones 
and  with  bow  and  arrow.  His  new  name  was  "  Mike." 

Only  Nan-ta-je  could  understand  much  that  Mike 
said.  The  Yavapai  language  was  different  from 
straight  Apache.  And  why  Nan-ta-je  understood 
Yavapai,  Jimmie  presently  found  out. 

This  evening  of  December  27,  two  days  after  the 
Captain  Burns  column  had  been  met,  something  evi- 
dently was  up.  Patron  Jack  had  received  orders  from 
Major  Brown  to  park  his  mules  in  close,  along  a  picket 
line,  "  in  a  place  easy  of  defence."  That  was  one  hint. 

" '  Find  heap  Injuns,  poco  tiempo  (in  little 
while),'  those  scouts  keep  sayin',  do  they?"  grum- 

153 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

bled  Jack.  "  Humph !  Looks  like  '  heap  Injuns'  might 
be  goin'  to  find  us,  mebbe !  " 

And  now  as  Jimmie,  having  finished  his  duties  for 
the  evening,  made  way  through  the  early  dusk  to  look 
up  Micky  and  listen  to  the  stories  of  the  scouts,  he 
noted  that  Major  Brown  and  the  six  officers  and  Chief 
Guide  Archie  Macintosh  were  in  a  group  around  a 
little  fire,  talking  low  with  one  another. 

The  soldiers,  wrapped  in  their  cavalry  overcoats, 
huddled  also,  in  messes,  smoking  and  joking.  They 
might  have  been  waiting  for  the  time  to  roll  in  their 
blankets,  but  somehow  they  all  seemed  to  be  waiting 
for  something  else. 

A  little  apart  from  the  cavalry  camp  was  the  scouts' 
camp;  Chief  Big  Mouth's  White  Mountains  in  one 
place,  the  Pimas  in  another.  The  Apaches  certainly 
knew  how  to  make  themselves  comfortable.  They 
stuffed  their  moccasins  with  dry  grass,  to  keep  their 
feet  warmer,  and  slept  two  or  three  together  in  snug 
beds  among  the  rocks. 

This  evening  they  were  having  an  especially  good 
time.  They  were  roasting  and  eating  pieces  of  a  mule 
that  had  died  from  poison.  Micky  was  squatting  and 
tearing  at  a  chunk,  like  the  rest  of  them,  near  one  of 
their  little  fires. 

With  greasy  mouth  he  grinned  amiably  as  Jimmie 
approached  to  squat  beside  him. 

"  Come  and  eat,  Boy-who-sleeps,"  he  greeted,  in 
Apache. 

"  I  have  eaten.  I  am  full,"  explained  Jimmie. 
Poisoned  mule  was  rather  more  than  he  could  stomach, 

154 


HUNTING  THE  YAVAPAI 

although  when  with  the  Chiricahuas  he  had  eaten 
almost  anything. 

"  It  is  well  to  be  full,"  said  Micky,  chewing  hard. 
"  We  may  not  eat  again  for  a  long  time." 

"Why,  Red-head?" 

"  Because,"  asserted  Micky,  changing  to  Mexican- 
Spanish,  "  now  Apache  catch  Apache.  We  start  soon. 
If  you  want  to  go,  you  had  better  be  getting  ready." 

"Where  are  they?  How  do  you  know?"  de- 
manded Jimmie. 

Micky  swallowed  a  large  mouthful  of  mule  meat, 
and  held  his  chunk  in  the  coals  again,  with  a  sharpened 
stick. 

"  I  know,"  he  said.  "  Soon  all  the  soldiers  will 
know,  so  I  will  tell  you  what  I  could  not  tell  you  before. 
Cluke  knew,  when  we  left  Camp  Grant.  He  had  talked 
with  Bocon  (which  was  Spanish  for  Big  Mouth),  and 
with  Nan-ta-je.  Major  Brown  knew,  too.  But  it 
has  been  a  secret.  We  are  here  to  fight  Delt-che's 
Yavapai  where  they  have  hidden  in  the  Four  Peaks 
above  the  Salt  River.  Nan-ta-je  was  brought  up, 
there,  when  he  was  a  boy.  It  is  a  big  cave,  in  the  face 
of  the  canyon  made  by  the  Salt  River.  It  is  reached 
by  a  secret  trail  from  above.  Nan-ta-je  knows  the 
trail.  He  told  Bocon  and  Bocon  told  the  Gray  Fox, 
and  they  arranged,  at  Camp  Grant.  First  we  were 
to  chase  Chuntz,  who  had  killed  your  Francisco.  That 
has  been  done,  and  he  has  got  away.  Now  we  will 
follow  Nan-ta-je  to  the  cave  of  the  Delt-che  people." 

"  How  far,  Micky?  "  breathlessly  asked  Jimmie. 

Micky  proceeded  to  gnaw  his  meat  chunk,  hot 
though  it  was. 

155 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"A  night's  march,  over  the  mountains  along  the 
Salt  River.  We  start  as  soon  as  a  bright  star  rises 
over  the  hills  in  the  east.  The  soldiers  must  leave 
their  horses,  and  all  wear  moccasins,  to  make  no  noise, 
and  must  get  there  before  daylight.  If  we  are  dis- 
covered on  the  trail,  we  will  be  killed,  every  one  of  us. 
Nobody  can  escape,  then.  That  is  what  Bocon  and 
Nan-ta-je  say,  and  they  know.  It  will  be  a  fine  fight, 
anyway.  The  Yavapai  will  be  in  their  cave,  behind 
a  rock  wall  across  its  mouth,  and  we  will  be  on  a  flat 
place  outside,  in  front ;  and  those  who  fall  off  will  land, 
in  the  river,  far  below.  Yes.  That  is  why  I  came," 
to  see.  You  must  run  off  from  your  pack-mules  and. 
be  there,  -too,  Cheemie." 

"  No,  I  won't  run  off,  but  I'll  ask,  you  bet!"  ex- 
claimed Jimmie,  jumping  up. 

"  Inju  (good)  !  "  grunted  Micky,  gulping  fast,  to 
finish  his  chunk.  "  You  and  I  will  stay  with  the  White 
Mountains.  They  will  fight.  But  I  don't  think  much 
of  these  Pimas.  Whenever  one  is  killed,  the  rest  stop 
fighting  and  make  medicine." 

Jimmie  hustled  back.  He  was  all  on  fire  to  go.  It 
sounded  as  though  it  was  to  be  a  fight  that  a  fellow 
would  hate  to  miss. 

A  change  had  come  over  the  camp.  The  cavalry 
detachments  were  astir.  The  non-commissioned  offi- 
cers were  passing  among  the  squads,  inspecting  equip- 
ment ;  in  the  glow  of  the  fires  the  men  were  donning 
moccasins,  overhauling  their  stubby  fifty-calibre 
Springfield  carbines,  and  stuffing  their  cartridge-belts, 
worn  outside  their  blue  overcoats,  with  the  brass  car- 

1*6 


HUNTING  THE  YAVAPAI 

tridges  distributed  from  the  green  ammunition-boxes 
lugged  by  the  pack-train. 

The  officers'  council  had  broken  up;  the  captains  and 
lieutenants  were  with  their  companies;  Archie  Mac- 
intosh and  Joe  Felmer  strode  briskly  through,  for  the 
scouts.  Jimmie  seized  upon  Joe. 

"Joe!    Can  I  go?   I  want  to  go!" 

"Whar?" 

"  To  see  the  fight  at  the  cave! " 

"  What  cave?  How  do  you  know  about  any  cave? 
You  must  have  been  with  that  pesky  Micky  Free  ag'in. 
Wall,  you  keep  yore  mouth  shut  about  a  cave.  No,  I 
don't  say  you  can  go.  You  aren't  under  my  orders. 
You're  with  the  pack  outfit.  Don't  bother  me." 

And  away  hastened  Joe,  following  Archie.  Away 
hastened  Jimmie,  likewise,  to  find  Jack  Long. 

All  the  cavalry  horses  had  been  tied  to  a  picket 
rope,  near  the  mules,  against  the  canyon  side.  The 
riggings  and  the  packs  were  being  piled  as  a  breast- 
work— the  task  had  been  almost  completed — old  Jack 
and  Frank  Monach  and  Jim  O'Neill  and  Blacksmith 
John  Cahill  and  even  Slim  Shorty  were  standing  armed 
and  ready — evidently  the  packers  were  to  join  the 
cavalrymen — hurrah,  the  pack  men  were  to  be  in  the 
fight! 

"  Say,  whar  you  been  ?  "  accused  Jack.  "  Now  you 
stay " 

"  Oh,  Jack,  can  I  go  ?  I  want  to  go,  Jack !  Please 
can  I  go?  "  pleaded  Jimmie. 

"  Seems  to  me  you're  alluz  wantin'  to  e  go ' 
some'ers,"  growled  Jack.  "You  ask  Joe  Felmer. 
He's  yore  gardeen." 

157 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"  I  did  ask  him  and  he  said  I  wasn't  with  him,  I 
was  with  the  pack  outfit;  and  the  pack  outfit's  going, 
isn't  it?  "  argued  Jimmie. 

"  Best  part  of  it/'  admitted  Jack.  "  Orders  from 
the  major  are  for  every  able-bodied  man  to  march  out, 
an'  for  those  who  can't  climb  to  guard  the  animals  an' 
packs,  hyar.  Dunno  which'll  be  the  dangerouser  place, 
in  case  the  Injuns  try  a  stampede." 

"  Oh,  let  him  go;  he's  earned  it,  I  reckon,"  spoke 
up  "  Long  Jim  "  Cook  gruffly.  "  He  can  stick  beside 
oj  me.  (Long  Jim  being  six  feet  eight!)  Then  all 
the  bullets'll  fly  so  high  he  won't  even  feel  the  wind 
of  'em." 

"  I'll  be  up  in  front  with  Micky  Free.  Micky  and 
I  can  scout  as  well  as  any  Apache,"  panted  Jimmie. 
"  We  won't  be  hurt."  He  turned,  to  make  off  again, 
but  Jack  sternly  halted  him. 

"  You  do  as  the  rest  do,  then :  put  on  a  blanket-roll 
an'  stick  in  some  grub,  an'  change  yore  feet  into 


moccasins." 


That  took  only  a  few  moments,  for  a  boy  in  a  hurry. 
Slim  Shorty  the  cook  good-naturedly  supplied  the  moc- 
casins; the  blanket-roll  was  made  up  in  a  jiffy,  around 
a  wad  of  bread  and  cold  meat,  and  was  slung  over 
Jimmie's  left  shoulder 

"  If  'twasn't  Micky  Free  I  wouldn't  let  you  go," 
warned  Jack.  "  But  nothin'  yet  invented  can  harm 
him,  so  if  you  jest  hang  onto  his  shirt-tail  he'll  take 
you  through !  " 

This  time  Jimmie  got  away,  but  none  too  soon,  for 
the  soldier  column  was  forming,  to  low  commands. 

158 


HUNTING  THE  YAVAPAI 

The  fires  had  died  down,  darkness  had  closed  in,  and 
he  scurried  fast,  through  the  gloom.  The  scouts  were 
bunched — Apaches  together,  and  Pimas  together — 
standing,  wrapped  in  their  blankets,  waiting.  Beyond 
them,  somebody  struck  a  match.  The  flame  lighted 
the  face  of  Nan-ta-je  and  of  Major  Brown,  who  was 
looking  at  his  watch. 

Jimmie,  pausing  and  peering,  felt  a  hand  on  his 
arm  and  heard  Micky's  voice,  under  breath.  Micky 
could  see  in  the  dark. 

"  Inju.     Star  nearly  up.     Before  sun  is  up,  big 

fight." 

Nan-ta-je's  star  must  have  appeared  at  that  very 
moment,  for  Major  Brown  struck  another  match,  to 
show  his  hand  raised  as  signal,  he  and  Nan-ta-je  moved 
forward,  the  scouts  moved,  pressing  in  the  wake  of 
Archie  Macintosh,  and  Joe,  and  Tony  Besias,  there 
were  gruff  orders,  half  whispers,  from  the  sergeants, 
to  the  soldiers;  and  amidst  soft  shuffle  of  moccasins 
the  whole  long  column  followed  the  lead  of  the  major 
and  Nan-ta-je,  presently  up  out  of  the  little  canyon^ 
for  the  high  mesa  or  table-land  above. 

Whew,  but  the  December  night  was  growing  cold ! 
The  clouds  had  broken,  the  stars  were  very  bright, 
faintly  illumining  the  dark  winding  column,  and  the 
frosty  breaths  wafting  from  it.  Scarce  a  sound,  ex- 
cept the  scuff  of  the  moccasins,  could  be  heard.  The 
United  States  cavalry  in  Arizona  did  not  carry  sabers 
when  scouting  for  Apaches ;  and  to-night  even  the  can- 
teens had  been  stowed  in  the  blanket  rolls,  lest  they 
jingle. 

159 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

According  to  the  north  star  the  course  was  west- 
erly. Nan-ta-je  and  the  major  led  at  a  rapid  pace,  to 
keep  the  men  warm.  Jimmie  stuck  close  by  Micky. 
He  had  no  fear  of  not  being  able  to  hold  his  own. 
He  trotted  loose-kneed,  toeing  in,  head  up,  breathing 
through  his  nose,  Apache  way. 

Trudge,  trudge,  scuff,  scuff,  hour  after  hour,  as 
seemed,  westward  across  the  high,  rough  mesa  where 
the  snow  lay  in  patches  and  the  Four  Peaks  of  the 
Mazatzal  rose  close  on  the  right.  To  the  left  was 
the  canyon  of  the  Salt  River. 

The  Apache  scouts  forged  ahead  of  the  cavalry. 
Along  after  midnight,  from  a  little  rise  sign  was  seen 
away  off,  before.  Lights!  Major  Brown  and  Nan- 
ta-je  had  halted. 

"  Come !  Quick !  "  hissed  Micky,  he  and  Jimmie 
trotting  faster.  "  Camp-fires.  Maybe  Yavapai." 

"  Column,  halt !  Lie  down,  men,"  sounded  the 
low  gruff  order,  behind. 

Down  flopped  everybody,  except  Archie  Macintosh 
and  Joe  Felmer,  and  half  a  dozen  of  the  scouts  with 
them,  who  continued  on  rapidly.  Micky  slipped  after, 
like  a  shadow ;  he  did  not  intend  to  miss  anything. 

Jimmie  had  dropped  in  the  van  of  the  other  scouts, 
near  to  the  major  and  Nan-ta-je.  They  and  Chief 
Big  Mouth  and  Bobby  Do-klinny  were  crouched  under 
a  blanket. 

"  Nan-ta-je  step  in  track.  Think  it  man  track/' 
grunted,  in  Apache,  the  Indian  beside  Jimmie.  Queer 
how  the  Apaches  seemed  to  know  everything!  And 
!N~an-ta-je  had  merely  felt  the  track,  through  his  moc- 
casin sole ! 

160 


HUNTING  THE  YAVAPAI 

Under  the  blanket  the  major — or  somebody — struck 
another  match.  Just  the  faint  crackle  told.  The  little 
group  examined  the  track,  there  was  short  muttering; 
then  the  crouchers  relaxed  and  quit,  and  waited.  Big 
Mouth  crept  back. 

"  Shosh  (Bear),"  he  informed. 

Nan-ta-je  had  been  fooled,  but  a  bear  track  is  very 
much  like  a  moccasin  track. 

Nobody  spoke  again.  If  anyone  even  coughed, 
from  the  cold  air,  he  did  so  with  his  mouth  pressed 
against  his  blanket.  Jimmie  shivered  with  the  cold 
and  the  excitement. 

Now  here  came  Archie  and  Joe  and  their  squad, 
trotting  back  from  their  reconnoitering.  Archie  re- 
ported to  Major  Brown  and  Nan-ta-je. 

"  Yavapai  fires,"  whispered  Micky,  sinking  beside 
Jimmie.  "  Pony  herd,  too.  Four  wickyups.  No 
Yavapai.  Left  wickyups  and  ponies,  little  while  ago. 
Maybe  go  to  tell  Delt-che." 

That  looked  bad. 

"  Huh !  "  grunted  a  White  Mountain.  "  We  go  to 
surprise  Yavapai.  If  Yavapai  know  and  surprise  us, 
we  all  get  killed,  says  Nan-ta-je." 

"  What  ponies  ?  "  asked  somebody,  of  Micky. 

"  Pima  and  undah  (white-man)  ponies.  Trav- 
eled far.  Feet  worn  out." 

In  their  cavalry  capes  Captain  Taylor  and  Lieuten- 
ant Bourke  stole  forward,  stooping.  They  had  been 
sent  for  to  consult  with  Major  Brown,  Archie  Mac- 
intosh, and  Nan-ta-je  and  Chief  Big  Mouth.  Pretty 
soon  they  went  back.  The  march  was  resumed,  toward 

11  161 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

the  fires.  The  column  had  spread  out,  ready  to  defend 
itself,  but  the  White  Mountain  scouts  kept  ahead. 
Chief  Owl  Ears'  Pimas  were  behind  with  the  Captain 
Burns  company. 

The  fires  were  still  glowing  at  the  Yavapai  camp 
on  the  top  of  the  mesa,  in  a  hollow  where  there  were 
grass  and  water  for  the  stolen  ponies.  But  save  for 
the  snorts  of  the  ponies,  all  was  silence.  The  march 
had  been  made  cautiously,  and  now  the  air  had  thinned ; 
in  the  east  the  sky  had  lightened.  Morning  was  at 
hand. 

"  Yavapai  cave  near,"  whispered  Micky.  The 
word  had  been  passed  along,  somehow.  The  march 
was  halted  again.  Teeth  chattered. 

Next,  Lieutenant  Ross  continued,  with  Archie  and 
Joe  and  Nan-ta-je,  a  dozen  cavalrymen  and  the  packers 
Jack  Long,  Jim  O'Neil,  Long  Jim  Cook,  Frank  Monach, 
Slim  Shorty — dead  shots  all,  and  fine  Indian  fighters. 
Nan-ta-je  led. 

Captain  Burns  and  Lieutenant  Thomas,  with  their 
cavalrymen  and  most  of  the  Pimas,  branched  off  on 
the  back  trail  of  the  pony  herd,  to  the  southeast.  More 
Yavapai  might  be  coming,  from  that  direction,  with 
other  booty. 

The  remainder  of  the  column  followed  Lieutenant 
Ross.  The  White  Mountains  had  dropped  their 
blankets  about  their  waists,  as  if  clearing  for  action. 
Their  faces  were  set  alert,  their  nostrils  flared,  they 
were  straining  every  sense,  to  detect  more  "  sign." 
Micky  pointed  downward;  underfoot  was  a  regular 
trail,  disclosed  in  the  gray  light. 

162 


HUNTING  THE  YAVAPAI 

Their  carbines  and  rifles  at  a  trail,  the  Lieutenant 
Ross  detachment,  led  by  Nan-ta-je,  with  Archie  and 
Joe  at  his  heels,  had  dipped  out  of  sight,  as  if  over  an 
edge.  The  last  one  of  them  disappeared.  The  faint 
roar  of  rapid  waters  sounded. 

"  Canyon  of  Salt  River  there,"  whispered  Micky. 
"  Yavapai  cave,  too." 

The  crack  of  the  canyon  began  to  open — across 
were  the  opposite  walls.  Cold  mist  was  floating  up. 
The  trail  conducted  to  the  canyon,  and  down.  Major 
Brown  and  Captain  Taylor  and  Lieutenant  Bourke, 
with  Tony  Besias  the  interpreter,  Chief  Big  Mouth 
and  others  went  forward  to  peer  in.  As  the  column 
bunched,  everybody  tried  to  peer  in.  Micky  craned 
forward,  with  the  scouts — he  and  Alchise  and  Bobby 
Do-klinny ;  Jimmie  edged  on ;  they  all  might  look  over 
the  rim,  for  the  officers  were  as  curious  as  the  rest. 

The  roar  of  the  waters  rose  louder.  The  river  was 
far  down,  hundreds  of  feet,  at  the  bottom  of  a  long 
crooked  gorge  with  precipice  walls.  Icicles  hung  from 
the  crags.  The  trail  entered,  here,  and  clinging  to 
the  niches  and  wearing  away  the  sod  of  the  few  flat 
spots  snaked  at  a  diagonal  until,  descending,  it  rounded 
a  shoulder  one  hundred  yards  below  the  rim,  where 
the  mists  were  wreathing. 

It  was  as  steep  as  the  trail  down  which  those  Tontos 
had  scampered,  into  the  Tonto  Basin !  Nobody  was  on 
it.  The  Ross  party  had  gone. 

"  Mescal,"  whispered  Micky,  sniffing.  All  the 
scouts  were  sniffing.  A  sweetish  scent  was  in  the  air, 
as  if  welling  from  below. 

163 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

Apache  mescal  pits !    Wood  smoke,  too !    Smell  it  ? 

"Huh!  Rancheria  there,"  grunted  Bobby 
Do-klinny.  "Close  to  Delt-che,  now.  Where 
Nan-ta-je?" 

Then • 

"Bang-g-g-g-g-g!" 

The  noise,  echoing  through  the  canyon  depths  and 
striking  the  faces  gazing  in,  fairly  deafened.  It 
sounded  like  a  regiment,  but  it  was  only  a  volley  by  the 
Lieutenant  Ross  party,  unseen. 

The  little  handful  of  advance  guard  had  found  the 
Yavapai ! 


XIV 

THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  CAVE 

THE  suddenness  of  the  tremendous  outburst 
paralyzed  even  Micky.  As  the  echoes  rumbled  and 
jarred,  Jimmie's  heart  beat  in  his  ears.  The  hard, 
quick  voice  of  Major  Brown  broke  in. 

"  Good  heavens!  What's  all  that?  Bourke,  take 
the  first  forty  men — doesn't  matter  who — support  Ross 
as  quick  as  you  can,  and  wait  for  the  rest  of  the  com- 
mand. I'll  join  you  in  short  order.  Hold  your  fire,  if 
possible,  till  I  arrive.  Tell  Ross  the  same." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  and  the  strong,  active  figure  of  Lieu- 
tenant Bourke  sprang  to  the  trail.  "  Sergeant  Turpin ! 
Here!  "  Top  Sergeant  James  Turpin  was  the  nearest 
to  him.  "  Count  off  forty  men,  as  they  come,  white 
or  red,  and  follow  me.  Quick,  now !  " 

Chief  Big  Mouth  yelped  at  his  men  in  Apache; 
tossed  away  his  blanket. 

"  Soldier-captain  want  men  to  fight  Yavapai.  Don't 
let  white  men  beat  you !  " 

There  was  a  rush  for  the  trail.  Soldiers  and  In- 
dians both  were  eager.  Sergeant  Turpin  had  hard 
work.  Jimmie  saw  no  chance 

"  Sh !    Come !  "  hissed  Micky,  at  him, 

Micky  had  slipped  over  the  edge.  Only  his  red 
head  could  be  seen.  His  feet  were  on  a  narrow  ledge 
that,  extending  along,  just  held  him.  Below,  the  can- 
yon wall  of  stunted  brush  and  rough  gray  rock  and 

165 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

frozen  trickles  fell  sharply  away,  clear  down  to  the 
cold  river,  a  thousand  feet !  It  was  a  dizzy  sight. 

Clutching  his  rifle,  planted  as  a  brace  to  steady  him 
while  he  half  kneeled,  Micky  twisted  enough  to  beckon 
with  his  free  hand. 

"  Come  on.     Leave  your  blanket." 

Micky's  blanket  lay  where  he  had  peeled  it.  With- 
out a  thought  of  hesitation  Jimmie  doffed  his  own  roll, 
and  squirming  flat  fumbled,  feet  first,  for  the  ledge; 
found  it,  and  carefully  lowered  his  body,  backward. 
Ticklish  work,  that  was,  for  a  fellow  in  a  hurry — 
although  Micky  apparently  had  done  it  as  nimbly  as  a 
squirrel. 

"  Inju !  "  approved  Micky,  when  Jimmie  was  safely 
settled.  "  Now  wait." 

If  anybody  above  had  noticed,  nobody  took  time  to 
object.  What  with  the  soldiers  and  scouts  so  eager 
to  pass  Sergeant  Turpin's  count,  and  what  with  the 
rear  guard  hastening  up,  and  what  with  everybody  pre- 
paring weapons  and  clothing  and  re-forming  for  the 
prospective  fight,  there  were  few  thoughts  upon  the 
whereabouts  of  two  such  items  as  wild  Micky  Free 
and  his  partner  Jimmie  Dunn.  Micky  was  the  kind 
who  usually  got  a  front  seat. 

Now  they  too  crouched  here  out  of  sight  upon  the 
narrow  shelf.  Scarcely  yet  had  the  echoes  of  the 
thunderous  volley  died  away.  Listen !  Shrill,  distant 
whoops  and  yells  of  defiance,  also  from  below!  But 
there  sounded  a  brisk  command,  above — the  fast  shuffle 
of  feet  and  the  rolling  of  pebbles — and  down  the  slant- 
ing trail  that  cut  along  the  sheer  wall  plunged,  sliding 

166' 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  CAVE 

and  striding,  the  support  company,  Lieutenant  Bourke 
first,  Chief  Big  Mouth  next,  and  their  file  of  men,  white 
and  red  mingled  in  a  fast  jumble,  close  pursuing,  every 
carbine  and  rifle  ready  for  business. 

Micky  poised,  crouching  tense.  Just  as  the  tail 
of  the  little  procession  swung  past,  slipping  and  steady- 
ing again  he  darted  forward  on  the  shelf.  Jimmie 
imitated.  They  scuttled  so  fast  that  they  either  must 
keep  going  or  tumble  off.  The  shelf  pinched  out  before 
it  cut  the  trail,  but  Micky  never  paused ;  he  leaped,  and 
landed  like  a  goat,  on  a  smaller  shelf,  a  mere  piece  of 
out-sticking  rock;  that  gave  him  purchase  for  another 
leap  which  took  him  to  the  trail ;  and  turning  instantly 
he  ran  down. 

Jimmie  had  no  time  for  thought.  What  Micky 
could  do,  he  could  do — he  had  to!  He,  too,  leaped; 
barely  touched  the  next  rock  with  one  moccasin ;  sprang 
on,  desperately,  across  space,  brushing  the  wall ;  landed 
on  the  edge  of  the  trail,  slipped,  recovered  (Whew!), 
and  gaining  balance  sped  after  Micky. 

The  trail  descended,  narrow  and  broken  and  icy  in 
spots,  at  a  steep  angle.  Anybody  who  lost  his  footing 
on  it  would  be  a  "  goner  " — he'd  not  stop  until,  having 
bounced  and  rolled  and  hurtled,  he  was  a  fragment  of 
shattered  bone  and  flesh  in  the  roaring  river  below. 
It  was  a  regular  Apache  trail. 

But  Micky  was  running.  The  Lieutenant  Bourke 
file  were  at  a  trot,  and  already  half-way  to  the  turn 
around  the  shoulder.  So  Jimmie  ran. 

Micky  caught  the  tail  of  the  file  before  it  rounded 
the  shoulder,  and  slackened  to  keep  'pace  with  it. 

167 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

Jimmie  caught  Micky  just  as  the  tail,  who  was  John 
Cahill  the  blacksmith,  was  disappearing  like  the  lash 
end  of  a  dragged  whip — but  he  did  not  go  much 
farther. 

The  file  were  scattering  like  frightened  quail,  to  a 
chorus  of  Apache  yells,  and  the  clatter  and  swish  of 
arrows,  and  a  rapidly  barked  command.  Micky  dived 
for  the  shelter  of  a  jagged  boulder,  and  Jimmie  fol- 
lowed suit.  They  all  had  arrived. 

It  was  a  broad  shelf  two  hundred  yards  long,  about 
half-way  between  the  bottom  of  the  precipice  and  the 
top,  and  littered  with  boulders.  On  right  and  left, 
behind  the  boulders,  were  the  Ross  men,  their  carbine 
barrels  pointing  steadily  at  a  high  rock  wall  about  in 
the  middle  of  the  shelf,  a  little  way  out  from  the  face 
of  the  precipice.  Behind  this  rock  wall — which  was  ten 
feet  high  and  built  up  smooth — was  a  large  opening: 
the  Yavapai  cave ! 

All  the  air  resounded  with  whoops  and  screeches, 
and  bow  twang,  and  now  and  then  a  gun-shot,  coming 
from  the  cave.  The  Yavapais  were  inside.  Several 
might  be  glimpsed,  between  the  end  of  the  rock  wall 
and  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  darting  about.  They 
dragged  a  body  or  two  back,  out  of  sight.  The  Ross 
volley  had  killed  some  of  them. 

"  Big  fight !  "  panted  Micky.  "  Good.  We  are  in 
time." 

"Hey!  What  in  thunder  are  you  doin'  down 
hyar?"  scolded  Joe  Felmer,  from  behind  the  next 
boulder — he  and  John  Cahill  together.  "  You  want  to 
lose  yore  scalps?  " 

168 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  CAVE 

Micky  only  grinned  impudently,  and  with  an  Apache 
yell  answered  the  Yavapais.  The  White  Mountains 
were  replying  with  taunt  to  taunt.  Jimmie  said  not  a 
word.  He  may  have  done  wrong,  but  here  he  was. 

"  Wall,  you  stay  mighty  close,"  ordered  Joe. 
"  This'll  be  no  picnic." 

"  What  have  you  done,  Black  Beard?  "  called  Chief 
Big  Mouth,  who  was  near. 

"  The  pony  thieves  were  dancing  their  deeds  in  the 
mouth  of  the  cave.  Before  they  saw  us  we  killed  six 
of  them." 

"  Bueno,"  grunted  the  fierce  Big  Mouth. 

Lying  low,  Lieutenant  Ross  and  Lieutenant  Bourke 
and  Nan-ta-je  were  consulting  together.  Presently 
orders  were  passed  from  man  to  man,  on  this  side ;  and 
by  ones  and  twos  and  threes  the  soldiers  and  scouts 
spread  out,  in  the  gray  dawn,  selecting  other  positions 
here,  or  bending,  went  scurrying  across,  against  the 
shelter  of  the  cave  rampart,  to  reinforce  the  other  flank, 
while  the  carbines  of  their  fellows  kept  the  Yavapais 
from  shooting  at  them. 

Listen,  again!  Amidst  the  cries  of  the  enraged 
Yavapais  there  rose  the  clink  of  carbine  butt  and  shuffle 
of  moccasins  from  marching  men,  again.  Major 
Brown  was  bringing  down  the  rest  of  the  troops.  But 
Micky  had  focussed  his  attention  upon  something  else. 
The  roving  one  eye  of  his  never  missed  a  single  point. 

"  Yavapai !"  he  uttered  excitedly,  half  rising  and 
pointing,  and  up  he  jerked  his  rifle. 

"  Hooh !  "  exclaimed  Big  Mouth,  craning. 

John  Cahill  was  the  quickest.     Away  beyond,  down 

160 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

the  beetling  canyon  wall,  on  an  out-jutting  rock  there, 
stood  a  naked  Indian  with  long  black  hair.  He 
whooped  triumphantly.  He  had  escaped,  somehow, 
from  the  cave — he  was  almost  to  the  bottom  and  in  a 
moment  more 

"Bang!" 

Blacksmith  Cahill's  carbine  had  spoken  even  while 
Big  Mouth  and  Joe  and  Micky  were  taking  aim. 

"  Thut !  "  That  was  the  bullet  striking  flesh.  Off 
from  the  rock  was  swept  the  Indian,  and  disappeared. 
Whether  or  not  he  had  been  killed,  nobody  knew ;  but 
his  body  was  found  later,  by  some  squaws. 

"  He  will  take  no  word  to  other  Yavapai,  I  think," 
pronounced  Micky.  "If  other  Yavapai  come  and 
catch  us  here,  then  we  are  dead,  too." 

The  Major  Brown  soldiers  were  pelting  in,  breath- 
less from  the  slippery  trail.  Hither-thither  they  de- 
ployed, sneaking  among  the  rocks  and  darting  across 
the  face  of  the  cave-mouth  wall.  Now  a  Pima  of  the 
Bourke  men  stood  up,  daring  the  Yavapais  while  he 
peered  for  a  shot  into  the  cave.  A  puff  of  smoke 
belched  from  a  niche  atop  the  rampart — "  Bang !  " — • 
and  down  he  wilted,  into  a  crumpled  heap  without 
motion. 

The  Yavapais  yelled  louder— their  "kill"  yell. 
The  Pimas  and  White  Mountains  yelled  back. 
The  soldiers  were  not  doing  much  shooting,  yet.  Their 
officers  were  arranging  them.  Very  soon  the  arrange- 
ment had  settled  into  this: 

There  was  one  line  of  crouching  scouts  and  soldiers 
behind  the  many  boulders  (which  sometimes  touched 

170 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  CAVE 

one  another)  not  far  in  front  of  the  cave-mouth  wall 
and  on  either  flank  as  the  ends  curved  in.  These  were 
skirmishers.  Back  of  them,  clear  along  the  edge  of 
the  immensely  broad  shelf  and  extending  around  the 
ends  of  the  shelf,  and  even  among  the  crags  of  the 
precipice,  was  a  second  line,  in  reserve,  also  behind 
rocks,  to  cover  the  first  line.  Some  of  the  rocks  were 
low,  some  high;  they  formed  all  kinds  of  shelter,  from 
which  one  might  shoot  over  and  around  corners  and 
through  chinks.  The  Micky-Jimmie  boulder,  down 
from  the  foot  of  the  trail,  in  the  second  line,  was  about 
the  size  of  a  roll-top  office-desk;  and  squatting  they 
might  peep  across  the  ragged  surface  of  it  and  see  the 
whole  length  of  the  big  shelf. 

From  either  side  Joe  Felmer  and  Big  Mouth  wrig- 
gled in  toward  them,  to  shoot  between  their  rocks  and 
this. 

"  Steady !  Hold  your  fire  till  orders,"  warned 
Sergeant  Turpin  and  others. 

For  Antonio  Besias  the  interpreter  was  speaking. 
He  half  rose,  from  along  the  second  line,  and  called 
in  Apache. 

"You  must  all  come  out!"  he  shouted.  "The 
soldier-captain  has  many  men  and  many  guns.  He  has 
found  you,  and  you  cannot  get  away.  He  does  not 
wish  to  kill  you,  but  he  will  kill  you  unless  you  lay 
down  your  guns  and  come  out." 

Back  behind  his  rock  ducked  Antonio,  just  in  time 
to  dodge  a  dozen  arrows,  not  to  say  several  bullets. 
What  a  storm  of  hoots  and  shrieks  had  drowned  his 
voice ! 

171 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"  We  are  not  afraid !  "  were  retorting  the  cave  war- 
riors. "  Yah  yah !  We  are  not  afraid,"  they  jeered, 
in  Apache  and  Spanish.  "  It  is  you  who  will  die,  you 
white  men  and  you  traitor  moccasin-stealers  who  rob 
women."  To  accuse  an  Apache  of  stealing  moccasins 
from  squaws  was  the  bitterest  of  insults.  "  You  will 
not  live  to  see  the  sun  rise.  Our  people  are  coming 
up  from  below,  and  you  will  be  fed  to  the  buzzards. 
Yah!" 

Nan-ta-je  tried,  in  Apache  and  Mohave  jargon  both. 
But  he,  too,  had  to  duck,  before  he  had  finished  telling 
them  to  send  out  their  women  and  children,  anyway. 

"  We  are  not  fighting  those,"  he  said.  "  We  fight 
only  men.  The  soldier-captain  will  wait  until  you 
send  out  your  women  and  children.  They  will  not  be 

harmed.  It  is  not  right "  and  his  words  were  lost 

in  another  burst  of  furious,  insolent  clamor. 

Major  Brown's  trumpeter  orderly  sounded :  "  Com- 
mence firing."  The  high  strains  lilted  gaily  from  can- 
yon wall  to  canyon  wall,  and  back  again. 

"  Take  it  easy,  boys,"  cautioned  Sergeant  Turpin, 
near  the  Jimmy  squad.  "  Let  the  front  line  do  the 
work,  but  if  you  see  a  head,  hit  it.  But  watch  out  for 
the  women  and  children." 

The  Yavapai  warriors,  behind  their  high  rock 
rampart,  taller  than  they  were,  had  difficulty  in  seeing 
out.  Occasionally  a  head  seemed  to  be  cautiously 
poked  up,  under  an  old  hat,  and  the  men  of  the  front 
rank  promptly  banged  away  at  it. 

Micky,  squirming  for  a  rest,  leveled  his  battered 
rifle  across  the  top  of  the  boulder,  took  aim  with  his 

172 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  CAVE 

one  eye — "  Bang !  "  Instantly  an  answering  shot  so 
shrewdly  scraped  the  boulder  top  that  the  stinging  rock 
splinters  filled  not  only  Micky's  one  eye  but  both  eyes 
of  the  intently  peering  Jimmie. 

"Fool  Red-head,  you;  why  you  shoot?"  scolded 
Big  Mouth.  "  Squaw  hold  up  hat  on  stick,  you  shoot 
at  that,  man  shoot  at  you! " 

This  trick  did  not  deceive  the  soldiers  long.  The 
Yavapais  quit  it,  and  from  behind  their  wall  began  to 
send  arrows  by  scores  high  into  the  air,  so  that,  curving 
downward,  they  might  land  among  the  rocks  where 
the  soldiers  and  scouts  lay. 

Major  Brown  met  this  with  a  similar  scheme. 
Nan-ta-je  and  Archie  Macintosh  wriggled  forward,  as 
rapidly  as  snakes,  among  the  rocks,  from  back  line  to 
front  line,  taking  a  message  to  soldiers  and  scouts. 
The  word  was  passed,  for  suddenly  all  the  line  elevated 
the  carbines  and  rifles  a  little  higher  and  shot  fast. 

Long  Jim  Cook  and  Alchise  and  Lieutenant  Ross 
and  the  others  in  sight  were  grabbing  the  cartridges 
spread  by  the  handful  beside  them,  and  using  them  as 
rapidly  as  triggers  might  be  pulled.  From  the  whole 
wide  cave  floated  dust ;  here  and  there  the  edges  melted 
away. 

"  Hi!  That's  the  stuff!  "  muttered  Joe.  "  Shoot 
into  the  cave  an'  let  the  bullets  glance.  That'll  fetch 


'em." 


Now  squaws  and  children  were  crying  with  pain' 
and  fright.  The  glancing,  re-bounding  bullets  favored 
nobody.  The  warriors  howled  furiously.  The  lead 
was  finding  them,  behind  their  wall.  Worse,  it  was. 

173 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

wounding  their  wives  and  babies.     So  they  stood  up, 
to  face  it  and  try  to  divert  it — stop  it,  if  possible. 

Their  scowling  faces  and  naked  or  ragged-shifted 
shoulders  might  be  seen,  above  the  breastworks,  amidst 
the  smoke  and  dust.  They,  too,  shot  rapidly,  point- 
blank,  into  the  rocks  before — and  the  squaws'  and  chil- 
dren's arms  were  glimpsed,  handing  up  to  them  loaded 
guns. 

At  the  far  end  of  the  wall  was  a  strange,  wild  figure 
— their  medicine  man!  Yes,  because  he  wore  a  large 
head-dress  of  painted  feathers  and  a  painted,  beaded 
buckskin  shirt  hung  with  strings  and  shells,  which 
should  protect  him  and  his  people  from  the  bullets. 
He  was  fighting,  too ! 

Twice  Joe  Felmer  drew  bead  on  him  and  shot ;  only 
to  mutter : 

"  I  can't  tech  that  feller." 

"  No.  He  is  big  medicine,"  reproved  Chief  Bocon. 
"  You  had  better  save  your  bullets,  Black  Beard." 

"  Cease  firing !  "  shrilled  the  bugle.  And  on  a  sud- 
den there  was  nothing  doing,  and  almost  a  complete 
silence,  except  for  crying  children,  until  Antonio  Besias 
called  again,  in  Spanish. 

"  You  have  fought  well,  but  you  can  see  that  you 
have  no  chance.  The  soldier-captain  says  for  you  to 
come  out.  Or  if  you  are  so  foolish  as  not  to  come  out, 
send  to  us  your  women  and  children,  that  they  may 
not  be  hurt." 

The  Yavapais  did  not  answer.  They  had  disap- 
peared from  the  wall.  Maybe  they  were  consulting 
together,  about  the  peace  summons.  Everybody  waited 

174 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  CAVE 

expectantly.  Jimmie,  trembling  with  the  excitement 
and  the  horror  of  the  fight,  hoped  that  the  people  in 
the  cave  would  now  surrender. 

Ah,  what  was  that?  More  defiance?  The  Yava- 
pais  were  chanting — a  high,  wild  chorus,  men  and 
squaws  both — and  the  shuffle  and  thud  of  a  dance  could 
be  heard. 

"  Hooh !  They  make  ready  to  charge,"  grunted 
Chief  Big  Mouth.  "  They  sing  their  death  song.  We 
must  shoot  straight,  Black  Beard." 

"  Look  out !  It  is  the  death  song !  They  will 
charge!"  were  warning  Nan-ta-je,  Bobby  Do-klinny, 
Alchise,  and  the  other  scouts,  in  Apache  and  Spanish; 
and  the  soldiers  repeated. 

"  Good !  "  pronounced  Micky,  his  blue  eye  snap- 
ping. "  It  will  be  a  fight  man  to  man.  That  is  no 
fun,  to  shoot  into  a  cave." 

The  chant  welled  higher  and  stronger,  and  all.  the 
canyon  echoed  again.  Would  they  never  come  ? 

The  front  or  skirmish  line  had  shifted  to  their 
knees,  guns  at  shoulders — Lieutenant  Ross  had  drawn 
his  revolver. 

"  Steady,  lads,"  was  cautioning  Sergeant  Turpin 
and  his  non-coms,  to  this  rear  line.  "  Hold  your 
places." 

"Here  they  come!" 

A  great  cheer  rang,  for  like  jacks-in-the-box  the 
Yavapai  warriors  had  appeared — some  twenty  or  thirty 
of  them — all  together  leaping  atop  their  rampart — 
strong,  muscular,  bronze-skinned  fighters,  bristling 
quivers  of  reed  arrows  upon  their  left  shoulders,  strung 

175 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

bows  in  one  hand,  rifles  in  the  other,  their  eyes  gleam- 
ing blackly,  their  raven  hair  flung  back,  their  painted 
faces  scowling.  They  emptied  their  guns  in  a  crashing 
volley,  and  proceeded  to  ply  their  bows  while  the  squaws 
handed  up  fresh  guns.  The  skirmish  line  of  scouts 
and  soldiers  swept  the  wall — the  smoke  eddied  and 
hung — and  out  from  the  farther  end  of  the  wall  bolted 
a  little  bevy  of  other  warriors,  to  break  through  for 
freedom. 

Up  from  their  rocks  jumped  the  skirmish  line,  and 
ran  to  head  them  off.  Long  Jim  Cook,  Alchise,  Bobby 
Do-klinny,  Nan-ta-je,  Slim  Shorty,  Lieutenant  Ross, 
with  his  revolver — they  all  ran,  snooting  and  yelling. 

They  were  too  many  for  the  Yavapais.  The  top 
of  the  wall  had  been  cleaned — and  back  through  the 
opening  at  the  end  hustled,  pell-mell,  the  escaping  war- 
riors, dragging  cripples,  but  leaving,  in  the  open  space 
there,  half  a  dozen  crimsoned,  motionless  forms. 

The  firing  died  away.  The  face  of  the  cave  preci- 
pice was  beginning  to  glow  with  sunlight.  What  next, 
now? 

"  Yavapai !  "  yelped  Micky,  springing  up. 

"  Hooh !  "  exclaimed  Big  Mouth. 

Micky  had  leveled  his  rifle — it  missed  fire.  Now 
twenty  paces  before  their  rock  was  standing,  on  an- 
other rock,  a  tall  Apache-Mohave.  How  he  had 
sneaked  this  far,  nobody  might  say.  He  must  have 
run  out  from  the  near  end  of  the  rampart,  while  every- 
body was  watching  the  far  end.  The  smoke  was  very 
thick. 

He  did  not  know  that  there  were  two  lines  of  enemy, 

176 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  CAVE 

and  he  had  paused  a  moment  to  whoop  his  triumph  at 
having  passed  the  first  line.  How  foolish!  In  a 
twinkle  a  score  of  carbines  and  rifles  were  focussed  on 
him — John  Cahill  aimed,  Joe  Felmer  aimed,  Big 
Mouth  aimed — they  could  not  miss. 

He  was  a  fine,  brave  warrior — and  he  saw,  too  late. 

"  Soldados  (Soldiers)  !  "  he  shrieked. 

"  Crash!  "  The  guns  all  shot  together;  the  bullets 
fairly  lifted  him  and  drove  him  topsy-turvy,  riddled 
through  and  through  from  head  to  waist. 

"  Crowed  a  leetle  soon,  that  feller,"  commented  Joe. 


XV 

JIMMIE  IS  A  VETERAN 

THE  December  sun  was  high  and  warm,  flooding 
the  broad  rock-strewn  terrace  half-way  between  river 
and  sky,  but  the  battle  was  still  going  on.  Now  that 
the  Yavapais  had  found  out  they  could  not  break  to 
freedom,  the  second  soldier  line  had  been  advanced, 
with  a  dash,  to  join  the  first.  As  fast  as  it  could 
be  loaded  and  fired,  every  gun  was  speeding  bullet 
after  bullet  into  the  cave,  filling  it  with  a  very  hail- 
storm of  glancing,  crisscrossing  lead. 

The  cave  was  broad,  and  seemed  to  be  shallow ;  and 
how  anybody  in  there  could  be  alive  was  a  mystery. 
But  alive  some  of  those  Apache-Mohaves  were,  for 
above  the  deafening  staccato  of  a  hundred  carbines 
rose  the  death  chant  and  the  shrieks  and  wails  and 
groans  and  curses. 

There  was  no  token  of  surrender.  It  was  a  fight 
to  the  death.  Cleverly  shielded  in  a  niche  at  his  end 
of  the  rampart  the  medicine-man,  barely  seen  through 
the  smoke  and  dust,  was  shooting  as  before,  helped  by 
the  squaws  who  handed  up  guns  to  him;  he  certainly 
wore  a  charmed  shirt.  Now  and  again  a  warrior 
bobbed  up,  fired  blindly,  and  bobbed  down. 

Micky  had  long  ago  used  the  last  of  his  cartridges. 
Like  Jimmie,  he  might  only  lie  and  watch. 

"I  told  you  there  would  be  a  good  fight!"  he 
shouted,  in  Jimmie's  ear.  "  This  is  the  end  of  these 
Delt-che  people.  They  fight  like  wolves  in  a  pen,  but 
it  is  no  use." 

178 


ML 


HURRAH!   IT  WAS  NAX-TA-JE 


JIMMIE  IS  A  VETERAN 

"  Look !  "  shouted  back  Jimmie,  pointing. 

An  Apache-Mohave  boy — he  was  naked  and  chubby 
and  could  not  have  been  more  than  three  or  four  years 
old — had  run  out,  around  the  cave  wall,  into  the  open 
space  in  front ;  and  there  he  stood,  sucking  his  thumb, 
and  scowling  at  the  Americanos  as  if  he  wanted  the 
noise  stopped.  Over  he  keeled,  struck  by  a  chance  bul- 
let ( for  nobody  would  have  shot  at  him)  ;  but  he  was 
not  dead — he  lay  and  kicked  and  howled,  and  all  the 
firing  ceased  as  if  by  magic. 

From  the  soldiers'  line  somebody  darted  forward. 
Hurrah ! 

It  was  Nan-ta-je.  He  reached  the  little  boy, 
grabbed  him  and  at  one  jump  was  behind  a  rock  again. 

"Hurrah  for  Joe!  Bully  for  Joe!"  Even  the 
Yavapais  might  have  cheered — but  Nan-ta-je  had  been 
just  in  time.  Scarcely  had  the  uproar  of  banging  guns 
and  howling  warriors  and  shrieking  squaws  and  wailing 
children  been  renewed,  when  down  from  above  rushed 
a  tremendous  boulder,  bursting  like  a  bomb-shell  upon 
the  wall  itself. 

"  Hooh !  "  ejaculated  Micky,  astonished. 

The  firing  slackened,  everybody  outside  looked  up. 
On  the  very  top  of  the  canyon,  right  over  the  cave 
mouth,  were  many  figures — soldiers — and  Indians! 
Outlined  against  the  sky,  they  appeared  curiously  small. 

"By  the  great  horn  spoon,  thar's  Burns!"  ex- 
claimed Joe  Felmer. 

Surely!  Jimmie  had  forgotten  about  the  Captain 
Burns  and  Lieutenant  Thomas  company,  but  here  they 
were,  soldiers  and  Pimas,  crowding  the  rim  of  the  cliff, 

179 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

and  gazing  over  as  far  as  they  dared.  They  had  re- 
turned from  following  the  pony  trail,  and  had  heard 
the  shooting.  Several  of  the  soldiers  were  hanging 
part  way — waist  far,  that  is — from  the  edge,  and  held 
in  place  by  other  soldiers  behind  them  were  aiming 
their  revolvers.  The  cliff  slanted  back,  above  the  cave, 
so  that  persons  above  might  see  its  threshold,  and  the 
rampart  before — and,  of  course,  see  the  warriors 
between  the  two. 

But  that  rock !  Here  came  another !  Watch  out — » 
soldiers  had  rolled  a  second  great  boulder  to  the  rim — 
they  gave  it  a  final  shove,  and  bounding,  ploughing, 
hurtling,  it  brought  an  avalanche  down  the  face  of  the 
precipice  and  landing  truly  in  the  mouth  of  the  cave 
burst  thunderously  into  a  hundred  pieces. 

A  third  boulder  followed  immediately.  Then  two 
at  once.  The  soldiers  and  scouts  below  were  cheering 
and  shouting  and  shooting  again,  but  the  crashing  of 
the  boulders  was  louder.  The  dust  they  made  was 
denser  than  the  powder  smoke — the  mouth  of  the  cave 
could  not  be  seen.  But  somewhere  in  that  veil  were 
the  wretched  Yavapais.  Jimmie  felt  sick. 

Even  the  death  chant  had  ceased,  across  there. 
Anyway,  it  could  not  be  heard  amidst  the  other  uproar. 
The  Captain  Burns  men  worked  hard.  The  rampart 
was  being  crushed  and  buried.  The  Major  Brown  men 
were  standing  up  while  they  fired ;  they  were  so  excited. 
Jimmie  and  Micky  were  standing. 

"  Down,  down  with  you !  "  bawled  sergeant  and  cor- 
poral. "  Wait  till  the  chargin'  order !  " 

The  fight  continued,  but  it  was  becoming  a  very 

180 


JIMMIE  IS  A  VETERAN 

one-sided  fight.  Bombarded  by  the  rock  artillery  from 
above,  and  by  the  carbines  from  in  front,  and  held  by 
the  cave  wall  behind,  the  Apache-Mohaves  were  being 
literally  wiped  out  of  existence.  They  were  replying 
not  at  all;  their  brave  medicine-man  had  disappeared 
amidst  the  murk — the  occasional  rifts  showed  him  no 
longer. 

Still,  it  was  dangerous,  here  in  front  of  the  cave, 
for  the  bursting  boulders,  piling  up  in  the  entrance  and 
shattering  the  rampart  there,  sent  their  fragments  flying 
like  pieces  of  shell,  causing  the  soldiers  to  duck  and 
laugh  as  they  plied  their  cartridges. 

Now  the  trumpet  sounded — "  Cease  firing!  "  The 
shots  died  away  as  Major  Brown,  standing,  waved  his 
arm  at  the  Captain  Burns  company,  on  the  rim  of  the 
precipice  over  the  cave,  to  signal  them  to  stop  rolling 
down  their  boulders. 

"  Prepare  to  charge ! "  the  orders  were  repeated, 
along  the  line  below.  The  sun  was  high,  marking  noon. 
The  battle  had  been  going  on  for  at  least  five  hours ! 

"  Prepare  to  charge ! "  Up  sprang  the  line,  and 
at  the  instant  down  bounded  the  last  of  the  boulders, 
which  the  officers  above  had  been  unable  to  withhold. 
It  gave  one  final  tremendous  jump,  and  landed  well  out 
in  front  of  the  cave — "  Boom !  "  Something  struck 
Jimmie — yes,  a  piece  of  it  caught  him  as  he  blindly 
dodged — and  whirling  him  around  knocked  him  head 
over  heels. 

He  tried  to  pick  himself  up,  and  a  fierce  pain  stabbed 
him  in  the  right  leg,  making  him  dizzy.  He  propped 
on  one  arm,  among  the  rocks,  while  his  eyes  cleared  a 

181 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

little.  Already  the  line  was  running  and  scrambling 
forward,  soldiers  and  scouts  both;  nobody  now  might 
pause  to  tend  to  him.  He  stared,  blinking  weakly. 
What  would  happen?  Were  the  Yavapais  away  back 
in  the  cave,  somewhere,  and  where  they  were  waiting,  to 
defend  it? 

There  was  Micky,  scooting  about;  and  Nan-ta-je, 
and  Joe,  and  Jack  Long,  and  Captain  Taylor  and  Lieu- 
tenant Bourke,  their  carbines  and  revolvers  poised,  as 
they  advanced  at  double-quick.  Right  up  to  the  top  of 
the  huge  pile  of  shattered  rocks  climbed  the  first  man- 
Corporal  Thomas  Hanlon,  he — and  glared  in ;  jumped 
down,  out  of  sight,  and  over  and  around  poured  the 
others.  But  not  a  shot  was  fired.  Evidently  all  the 
Yavapais  were  dead.  Oh ! 

With  that,  Jimmie  sighed,  everything  swam  before 
him,  and  he  must  have  fainted,  because  the  next  that 
he  knew,  Jeo  Felmer  was  sopping  his  face  from  a  can- 
teen, and  Micky  was  squatting  beside,  grinning. 

From  the  cave  sounded  the  hum  of  voices ;  the  sol- 
diers and  scouts  were  still  busy  there.  The  Burns 
soldiers  and  Pimas  had  come  down. 

"  Hyar !  You  lie  quiet,"  ordered  Joe.  "  You  got 
a  busted  leg,  I  reckon,  an'  you  don't  want  to  see  inside 
that  cave,  anyhow.  Wish  I  hadn't,  myself." 

"  Are  they  all  dead,  Joe?  "  quavered  Jimmie,  help- 
lessly. Wow,  how  that  leg  hurt!  But  it  had  been 
bound  up,  after  a  fashion,  probably  by  Joe. 

"  Ev'ry  buck,  includin'  the  medicine  man.  Plumb 
shot  through,  or  smashed;  lots  of  'em  both.  Some 
squaws  anj  kids  left,"  grunted  Joe.  "  It's  what  you 

182 


JIMMIE  IS  A  VETERAN 

might  call  a  massacree.  Now,  you  stay  hyar,  till  we're 
ready  to  move  ye.  I'm  needed  yonder.  Micky  can 
nuss  ye;  both  o'  ye  ought  to  be  back  with  the  pack- 
train — 'tain't  no  place  for  boys — 'speshully  for  one 
who  can't  dodge  rocks." 

Muttering,  Joe  (who  really  was  kind-hearted) 
trudged  away. 

"  Ah,  I  told  you  it  would  be  a  great  fight,  Boy-who- 
sleeps,"  grinned  Micky  Free,  as  he  squatted.  "  Black 
Beard  is  angry,  because  you  are  the  only  one  of  us 
wounded ;  but  you  will  be  a  warrior,  now." 

"  Were  you  in  the  cave,  Red-head  ?  "  asked  Jimmie, 
also  in  Apache. 

"  Yes.  It  is  very  red.  All  the  Yavapai  warriors 
are  dead.  The  medicine  chief  is  dead,  under  a  rock. 
One  old  man  was  partly  alive,  and  he  died  soon.  Some 
squaws  and  children  hid  behind  large  flat  rocks,  and 
under  dead  people.  They  will  be  captives.  You  will 
see  them.  Delt-che  is  not  there;  but  he  has  lost  his 
best  warriors,  and  he  never  will  make  a  good  fight 
again.  I  am  glad  we  came,  Cheemie." 

"What  are  the  Pimas  doing,  Red-head?"  asked 
Jimmie.  For  the  Pimas,  with  Chief  Owl  Ears  in  the 
center,  were  sitting  in  a  bunch  and  wailing. 

"  Oh,  those  Pimas !  "  scoffed  Micky.  "  They  make 
medicine.  They  no  good  any  more.  They  find  their 
Pima  who  was  killed,  and  now  their  medicine  tells 
them  they  must  not  fight  again  till  after  they  have 
mourned  him  by  singing  and  bathing  and  not  eating. 
That  will  take  several  days.  But  Apaches  wait  till  they 
get  home.  I  do  not  think  much  of  the  foolish  Pimas. 

183 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

And  the  Maricopas  are  the  same.  All  no  good — stop 
fighting  and  make  medicine.  'Huh !  " 

The  soldiers  and  scouts  worked  fast,  cleaning  out 
the  cave.  The  squaws  and  children  were  placed  under 
guard,  the  White  Mountains  and  Pimas  were  given 
whatever  stuff — mescal,  dried  meat,  skins,  bows, 
arrows,  lances,  guns,  and  so  forth — that  they  could 
carry;  the  remaining  supplies  (a  great  quantity)  were 
piled  up  and  set  on  fire. 

Joe  and  Slim  Shorty  the  cook  came  hurrying  back, 
with  a  litter  contrived  from  two  lances  and  a  deer  hide 
slung  between. 

"  Got  to  get  out  o'  this  place,"  explained  Joe. 
"  Squaw  says  some  other  squaws  went  down  below,  jest 
before  the  fight,  to  the  mescal  pits ;  they'll  carry  warnin' 
to  'nother  rancheria  yonder  an'  we'll  have  the  hull 
caboodle  on  our  backs  if  we  don't  act  fast.  Easy,  now, 
while  we  put  you  in." 

Major  Brown  was  in  a  hurry  to  climb  up  into  the 
open  and  unite  with  the  pack-train.  The  long  column 
ascended  the  winding  trail.  There  were  eighteen  cap- 
tives— women  and  children,  several  of  them  wounded. 
Below,  in  front  of  the  cave  the  fire  burned  fiercely, 
consuming  the  supplies  and  the  many  bodies  heaped 
upon.  Over  seventy  of  the  outlaws  had  been  killed. 
Some  were  left  where  they  had  fallen,  in  the  cave. 

After  this  no  Indian  would  venture  inside  that  cave. 
The  skeletons  of  the  Delt-che  people  bleached,  undis- 
turbed for  years. 


184 


XVI 

THE  GENERAL  PLANS  WELL 

THE  campaign  against  the  outlaw  Yavapais,  Ton- 
tos  and  Apache- Yumas  was  by  no  means  over,  merely 
on  account  of  the  cave  fight.  But  it  was  over,  for 
Jimmie. 

Out  went  the  troops  and  White  Mountain  scouts, 
again,  this  time  from  Camp  MacDowell.  Jack  Long 
came  into  the  hospital  there,  just  before  the  start,  and 
bade  Jimmie  good-by. 

"  You'll  be  a  fust-class  packer  yet,  muchacho," 
encouraged  old  Jack.  "  Yessir ;  'bout  one  more  trip  an* 
I'll  promote  ye.  You  might  ask  the  doctor  to  stretch 
yore  legs  a  trifle,  while  he  has  you  in  hand.  Some  day 
you're  liable  to  be  a  reg'lar  patron,  but  that'll  be  after 
my  day.  I've  a  notion  I'm  due  to  peter  out,  what  with 
these  hyar  up-hill,  down-hill,  blow  hot,  blow  cold  mean- 
derin's,  chasin'  Taches  with  pack-mules." 

"  Aren't  you  feeling  well,  Jack  ?  " 

"  Not  extra  pert,  son.  Yuh  see,  I'm  kind  o'  old. 
But  I'll  stick  as  long  as  I  can.  So  'adios/  an'  be  good 
to  yoreself ." 

This  was  the  last  time  that  Jimmie  saw  old  Jack. 
He  died  on  the  trail,  away  over  at  the  San  Carlos  River 
toward  the  White  Mountain  country,  and  was  buried 
there  under  some  beautiful  trees. 

The  general  also  paid  Jimmie  a  visit  in  the  Mac- 
Dowell hospital. 

185 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"Well,  my  boy,  how  are  you  getting  along?"  he 
greeted,  gazing  down  with  his  peculiar  grave  smile. 

"  All  right,  thank  you,  sir/'  asserted  Jimmie,  whose 
leg  nevertheless  pained  like  sixty. 

"  The  pack-mules  returned  in  fine  shape — fine 
shape,"  abruptly  spoke  the  general.  "  Not  a  sore  back, 
or  a  sore  hoof.  That's  the  way  mules  ought  to  be 
handled,  always/' 

Located  here  thirty  miles  east  of  present  Phoenix, 
Arizona,  Camp  MacDowell  was  not  an  unpleasing  post 
at  all.  The  Salt  River,  flowing  west,  was  a  few  miles 
below ;  and  scarce  a  mile  east  the  Verde  or  Green  River 
rippled  down  to  join  it.  Hazy  against  the  eastern  hori- 
zon rose  the  Four  Peaks  of  the  Mazatzal,  in  whose 
southern  face  had  occurred  the  cave  battle. 

The  post  buildings  were  thick  adobe,  with  shingle 
or  clay  roofs ;  there  were  cottonwood  trees,  for  shade ; 
and  through  the  post  ran  a  wide  acequia  or  irrigating 
ditch. 

During  all  of  January,  February  and  March,  in  the 
new  year  1873,  the  hunt  for  the  outlaws  continued. 
In  bitter  weather  they  were  chased  from  hiding-place 
to  hiding-place  amidst  the  mountains,  and  given  no  rest. 
Then,  on  the  seventh  or  eighth  of  April,  Hank  Hewitt 
and  a  party  of  the  MacDowell  packers  appeared  at  the 
post.  They  were  thin  and  weather-worn :  long-haired, 
long-whiskered,  and  grimy  with  smoke  and  bacon- 
grease. 

According  to  Hank  great  work  had  been  done. 
Chief  Chalipun — or  "  Charley  Pan/'  as  they  called  him 
• — had  sent  word  that  he  would  come  into  Camp  Verde 

186 


THE  GENERAL  PLANS  WELL 

and  treat  with  the  general  for  peace.  Already  three 
hundred  other  Yavapais  and  Hualpais  had  surrendered 
at  Camp  Grant. 

Naturally,  Jimmie  was  eager  to  get  up  to  Verde, 
meet  Joe,  and  the  rest,  and  report  for  active  duty.  He 
had  thrown  aside  his  crutch;  the  only  thing  that  both- 
ered him  now  was  a  limp,  and  an  occasional  twinge 
when  he  twisted  his  leg. 

So  he  gladly  rode  north  with  Hank  and  others,  by 
the  military  road  up  the  Verde  River  for  Camp 
Verde,  ninety  miles. 

He  was  just  in  time.  The  general  was  here;  the 
last  of  the  scouting  parties,  under  Lieutenant  Almy  and 
Lieutenant  Bourke,  had  arrived  from  the  Tonto  Basin ; 
Chief  Big  Mouth,  Alchise,  Nan-ta-je,  Bobby  Do-klinny, 
and  Micky  Free  were  here,  with  the  triumphant  White 
Mountains ;  and  Chief  Chalipun  himself  had  brought  in 
three  hundred  more  Yavapais,  for  the  peace  talk. 

The  happy  Crook  men  all  looked  as  tough  as  had 
Hank  Hewitt's  squad.  The  majority  of  them  wore 
canvas  suits,  like  the  general's ;  and  the  suits,  and  the 
faces,  and  the  hair  and  whiskers,  told  a  tale  of  many 
smoky  campfires  and  hard  marches. 

"  Hey !  "  Joe  greeted.  "  That  doc.  stretched  one 
leg  more'n  he  did  the  other!  Old  Jack  said  he'd  left 
orders  to  have  'em  both  stretched  alike." 

Poor  old  Jack !  But  Jimmie  laughed  bravely,  and 
he  and  Joe  shook  hands.  Micky  Free  pattered  across 
in  his  ragged  moccasins,  grinning1.  His  brick-red  hair 
hung  upon  his  shoulders,  his  red  moustache  had  in- 
creased, his  one  blue  eye  danced  in  his  freckled  tanned 
face. 

187 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"  How,  Cheemiel  "  he  hailed.  "  You're  all  right? 
Good!  A  three-legged  deer  runs  faster  than  a  four- 
legged  deer.  You  did  not  miss  much.  We  had  no 
fights  like  the  cave  fight." 

There  was  not  much  time  for  hobnobbing.  Chali- 
pun  was  anxious  to  talk  with  the  general,  and  the  gen- 
eral was  anxious  to  settle  matters  with  Chalipun ;  and 
everybody  wished  to  hear  the  confab.  On  this,  the 
sixth  day  of  April,  1873,  the  talk  occurred. 

The  general  sat  in  a  chair  on  the  porch  of  the  post 
headquarters.  With  him  *were  Captain  and  Brevet 
Colonel  J.  J.  Coppinger,  Twenty-third  Infantry,  who 
commanded  Camp  Verde,  a  number  of  aides,  and  spare, 
black-whiskered  Antonio  Besias,  the  Apache-speaking 
Mexican  interpreter;  and  Nant-ta-je. 

The  general  also  had  grown  whiskers.  A  sandy 
full  beard  it  was,  rather  thin  on  the  chin  but  bunching 
thickly  down  from  the  cheeks. 

"  Tell  Chalipun  I  am  ready  to  hear  what  he  has  to 
say,"  directed  the  general,  to  Antonio. 

Chief  Chalipun,  his  black  snaky  hair  cut  square 
across  the  forehead  and  confined  by  a  band  of  red 
flannel,  stood  straight  and  spoke  with  fierce  energy. 

"  My  people  are  done  fighting  the  white  people/' 
he  said  in  good  Spanish.  "  We  have  come  in  because 
we  want  to  be  at  peace.  The  Gray  Fox  has  too  many 
cartridges  of  copper,  and  we  have  very  few.  We  can 
fight  the  Americans  alone,  but  now  our  brothers  are 
fighting  against  us,  too,  and  we  do  not  know  what  to 
do.  We  cannot  sleep  at  night,  for  fear  of  being  sur- 
rounded We  cannot  hunt,  because  there  are  always 

188 


THE  GENERAL  PLANS  WELL 

soldiers  within  sound  of  our  guns.  We  cannot  cook 
mescal,  because  the  smoke  and  the  smell  of  our  fires 
bring  the  soldiers  to  us.  We  cannot  live  in  the  val- 
leys; the  valleys  are  full  of  soldiers.  And  when  we 
hide  in  the  snow  of  the  mountains,  our  Apache  brothers 
follow  us,  with  soldiers.  We  have  no  place  to  go ;  our 
men  and  women  and  children  are  dying.  We  want  to 
be  at  peace  with  the  whites,  and  be  told  what  to  do." 

"  I  have  heard  what  Chalipun  has  said,"  answered 
General  Crook — Antonio  Besias  translating,  sentence 
by  sentence,  into  Spanish.  "  It  is  good.  I  will  take 
him  by  the  hand.  If  he  keeps  his  promise  to  live  at 
peace  and  stop  killing  people,  I  will  be  the  best  friend 
he  has  ever  had.  If  any  of  his  people  have  died,  that 
was  their  own  fault.  I  sent  messages  to  them,  asking 
them  to  come  in.  When  they  refused,  I  had  no  way  to 
do  but  to  fight  them  and  kill  them. 

"  The  Yavapai  have  said  that  the  white  people 
began  the  war.  It  is  no  use  now  to  talk  about  who 
began  the  war.  There  are  bad  men  among  all  peoples. 
There  are  bad  Americans,  and  bad  Mexicans,  and  bad 
Apaches.  The  thing  to  do  now  is  to  forget  this,  and 
to  make  a  peace  that  will  last  forever.  It  must  be  a 
peace  not  only  between  the  red  men  and  the  white  men, 
but  also  between  the  red  men  themselves.  There  must 
be  no  more  fighting  and  stealing. 

"  The  red  men  in  Arizona  shall  live  by  the  white 
man's  laws ;  they  shall  be  treated  exactly  as  the  white 
men  are  treated,  and  shall  not  be  punished  unjustly, 
If  they  think  that  they  are  being  treated  unjustly,  they 
must  tell  the  soldier-captain  who  has  charge  of  their 

189 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

reservation,  and  he  will  do  right  by  them.  They  must 
remain  where  they  are  put,  as  long  as  there  are  any  bad 
Indians  out  in  the  mountains  to  make  trouble.  They 
must  not  cut  off  the  noses  of  their  wives,  as  a  punish- 
ment. They  shall  have  their  own  soldiers,  to  arrest 
drunkards  and  thieves  and  other  bad  persons.  They 
shall  be  allowed  to  work  and  earn  a  living,  like  the 
white  men.  And  the  sooner  they  go  to  work,  the 
better,  because  when  a  man  has  nothing  to  do,  he  is 
liable  to  get  into  mischief. " 

With  that,  the  general  advanced  and  shook  hands 
with  Chalipun.  The  assembled  Yavapais  seemed 
satisfied. 

"  It  was  a  good  talk/'  agreed  Jimmie  and  Micky. 

"  Where  do  you  live  now,  Cheemie?  "  asked  Micky, 
as  the  council  broke  up.  "  There  is  no  old  Camp 
Grant,  and  there  will  be  no  Apaches  to  watch,  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Arivaipa." 

That  was  true.  Old  Camp  Grant  had  been  aban- 
doned, and  a  new  Camp  Grant  established  by  the  gen- 
eral, in  a  better  country  about  fifty  miles  southeast, 
half-way  to  Camp  Bowie.  The  Arivaipas  and  Finals, 
and  the  Yavapais  and  Hualpais  who  had  surrendered 
first,  were  being  removed  to  the  new  San  Carlos  reser- 
vation, over  toward  Camp  Apache. 

"  Joe  has  his  ranch,  though,"  reminded  Jimmie. 

"Yes;  but  he  has  no  post  to  sell  to.  You  come 
to  the  White  Mountain  country,  and  we  will  talk 
Apache  and  hunt  and  go  to  war  together." 

"  The  war  is  almost  done,  Micky.  A  big  peace  is 
being  made." 

190 


THE  GENERAL  PLANS  WELL 

"  No,"  declared  Micky,  with  a  shake  of  his  red 
head  and  a  thoughtful  squint  of  his  blue  eye.  "  Chuntz 
is  still  out,  and  Delt-che  is  still  out,  Naqui-naquis  of 
the  Tonto  is  still  out.  The  Chiricahua  have  no  police, 
no  soldiers,  no  anything  over  them;  they  do  as  they 
please.  This  is  not  fair,  the  White  Mountains  think. 
Did  you  know  that  Major  Brown  and  Lieutenant 
Bourke  have  been  to  see  Cochise  ?  " 

"No!" 

"  Yes,"  asserted  Micky.  "  They  were  sent  down 
there  by  Cluke,  before  the  last  scout.  Cluke  has  had 
orders  to  let  the  Chiricahua  alone,  but  he  wanted  to 
get  a  talk  with  Cochise.  Cochise  is  for  peace,  because 
he  is  living  where  he  chose  to  live.  Maybe,  though, 
his  young  men  will  grow  tired  of  one  spot;  then  who 
will  stop  them,  says  Alchise  ?  " 

"  The  general  will,"  assured  Jimmie. 

"  Cluke  will  try  hard,"  wisely  assented  Micky. 
"  He  will  follow  them — his  trail  has  only  one  end. 
But  you  cannot  turn  Apaches  into  white  men  all  at 
once.  I  look  to  see  more  fighting." 

In  April  Delt-che  the  Red  Ant  made  one  last  venge- 
ful raid.  But  the  troops  and  scouts  were  hot  after 
him.  Major  George  M.  Randall  of  Camp  Apache  did 
the  final  work,  this  time.  In  the  night  of  April  21  he 
and  his  men  climbed  on  hands  and  knees  up  the  steep 
slope  of  Diamond  Peak  in  the  Tonto  Basin.  Here,  on 
the  top  of  the  YavapaiY  "  medicine  mountain  "  they 
surprised  the  Delt-che  band  at  dawn  and  drove  them 
over  the  edges  of  the  precipice. 

Delt-che  and  his  surviving  people  were  brought  into 
the  reservation  at  Camp  Verde. 

101 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

At  the  various  posts  there  was  read,  to  the  troops 
on  parade,  a  message  from  Division  Headquarters : 

GENERAL  ORDERS  No.  7 
HEADQUARTERS  MILITARY  DIVISION  OF  THE  PACIFIC, 

San  Francisco,  Cal.,  April  28,  1873. 

To  Brevet  Major-General  George  Crook,  commanding  the 
Department  of  Arizona,  and  to  his  gallant  troops,  for  the  extraor- 
dinary service  that  they  have  rendered  in  the  late  campaign 
against  the  Apache  Indians,  the  Division  Commander  extends 
his  thanks  and  his  congratulations  upon  their  brilliant  successes. 
They  have  merited  the  gratitude  of  the  nation.  There  is  now 
occasion  for  hope  that  the  well-deserved  chastisement  inflicted 
upon  the  Apaches  may  give  peace  to  the  people  of  Arizona. 

By  order  of  Major-General  Schofield. 

General  Crook  also  issued  congratulations,  in  Gen- 
eral Orders  No.  14,  Department  of  Arizona: 

The  operations  ot  the  troops  in  this  Department  in  the  late 
campaigns  against  the  Apaches  entitle  them  to  a  reputation 
second  to  none  in  the  annals  of  Indian  warfare.  In  the  face 
of  obstacles  heretofore  considered  insurmountable,  encountering 
rigorous  cold  in  the  mountains,  followed  in  quick  succession  by 
the  intense  heat  and  arid  waste  of  the  desert;  not  infrequently 
at  dire  extremities  for  want  of  water  to  quench  their  prolonged 
thirst ;  and  when  their  animals  were  stricken  by  pestilence  or  thej 
country  became  too  rough  to  be  traversed  by  them,  they  left  them, 
and,  carrying  on  their  own  backs  such  meager  supplies  as  they 
might,  they  persistently  followed  on,  and,  plunging  unexpectedly 
into  chosen  positions  in  lava-beds,  caves  and  canyons,  they  have 
outwitted  and  beaten  the  wildest  of  foes,  with  slight  loss  com- 
paratively to  themselves,  and  finally  closed  an  Indian  war  that 
has  been  waged  since  the  days  of  Cortez. 

Jimmie  heard  the  orders  read  at  Fort  Whipple, 
where  he  was  herding  horses  for  the  quartermaster's 
department.  A  scourge  of  epizootic  had  played  havoc 
with  the  army  animals,  and  much  of  the  cavalry  re- 
quired remounting.  The  new  horses  were  driven  to 
Whipple  from  Los  Angeles  and  San  Diego  of  Califor- 

102 


THE  GENERAL  PLANS  WELL 

nia,  in  bunches  of  several  hundred  at  a  time,  to  be 
divided  among  the  posts. 

This  was  rather  a  poky  job,  but  if  the  war  had 
ended,  a  fellow  needs  must  do  something. 

Joe  Felmer  had  decided  to  quit  scouting  and  ranch- 
ing, and  try  prospecting.  So  he  had  headed  for 
Tucson. 

The  two  thousand  Yavapais,  Tontos  and  Apache- 
Yumas  at  Camp  Verde  were  content.  Everybody 
working,  with  worn-out  tools  they  had  dug  an  irrigat- 
ing ditch  five  miles  long,  to  water  fifty-seven  acres  of 
land,  and  were  putting  in  crops.  The  general  had 
promised  them  that  they  should  be  paid  money,  the 
same  as  white  people,  for  whatever  they  raised  to  sell,, 
and  they  believed  him. 

From  Camp  Apache  and  the  San  Carlos  agency 
there  came  encouraging  reports.  In  the  south  the 
Chiricahuas  were  quiet.  Mexico  complained  that  stock 
was  being  stolen  and  run  across  the  line  into  the  Chiri- 
cahua  reservation ;  but  Agent  "  Staglito "  or  Red- 
beard,  who  was  Tom  Jeffords,  declared  that  this  was 
done  by  the  Chief  Whoa  outlaws  in  Mexico. 

Arizona  did  indeed  seem  at  peace,  for  the  first  time 
in  three  hundred  years. 


XVII 

BAD  WORK  AFOOT 

"LIEUTENANT  ALMY  is  killed!  Almy's  been 
murdered ! " 

"What!    Where?" 

"  At  San  Carlos !  An  Injun  shot  him.  There's 
been  an  uprising." 

The  word  sped  rapidly  through  Fort  Whipple.  It 
was  a  noon  of  the  first  week  in  June,  and  Jimmie  had 
ridden  in  to  dinner  just  on  time  to  see  a  courier  dash 
across  the  parade-ground  for  the  adjutant's  office. 

Chief  of  Scouts  Al  Sieber  appeared,  walking  fast. 
The  men  made  a  rush  for  him. 

"  What's  that,  Al  ?    Almy  killed  ?  " 

Al  spoke  tersely. 

"  Yes.  At  San  Carlos.  Chan-dezi  (Long-ear) 
shot  him.  Chuntz  was  in  it,  too;  he  and  Cli-bic-li 
(Tied  Horse)  and  Cochinay.  The  Chuntz  gang  have 
been  hanging  'round  the  agency,  and  sneaking  in  at 
night  for  food  and  to  make  mischief.  The  Tonto  and 
Yavapai  had  hatched  a  scheme  to  kill  the  agency  whites, 
this  month,  and  take  to  the  hills.  But  they  got  hold 
of  some  whiskey  on  the  reservation,  and  broke  too 
soon.  The  agency  police  started  in  to  arrest  the 
chiefs.  Long-ear  tried  to  lance  Agent  Larrabee. 
Yomas,  a  friendly,  knocked  the  lance  aside.  There 
was  a  mob.  Almy  undertook  to  do  the  arresting  him- 
self. Went  in  among  them  alone — bravest  act  I  ever 
heard  of  Long-ear  shot  him  dead  and  made  a  get- 

194 


BAD  WORK  AFOOT 

away,  with  Chuntz  and  Cochinay.     That  was  May  27." 

"  Does  it  mean  a  little  scout,  Al?  "  they  hopefully 
queried. 

"  No,  I  think  not,  boys.  The  hostiles  probably 
won't  leave  the  Gila  Canyon,  there,  and  the  troops  and 
the  police  can  corral  them.  But  the  general's  going 
over."  Al  saw  Jimmie,  and  beckoned  him  apart. 
"  Are  you  fit  for  a  trip  to  Apache  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Sjeber." 

"  That's  good.  Joe  Felmer  asked  me  to  keep  an 
eye  on  you,  whenever  I  was  around,  and  I've  been 
thinking  that  it's  a  little  dull  for  a  boy  of  your  calibre 
to  be  herding  horses  all  the  time.  Well,  the  general 
and  some  of  the  rest  of  us  are  starting  for  Apache  in 
the  morning,  to  look  into  this  fracas.  They  need 
horses,  over  there.  The  quartermaster's  a  good  friend 
of  mine,  and  I'll  just  drop  a  hint  that  now  might  be 
a  proper  time  to  send  a  bunch  in,  and  you  with  it. 
That'll  help  you  to  learn  the  country.  You'll  be  for- 
getting how  to  speak  Apache  if  you  stay  here  talking 
horse." 

"  I'd  like  to  go  mighty  well,  Mr.  Sieber,"  Jimmie 
admitted. 

"  All  right.     Micky  Free'll  be  glad  to  see  you. 
He  asks  about  you  every  time  I  run  across  him." 

Mr.  Sieber  hastened  on.  A  fine  man,  was  Al 
Sieber.  He  spoke  Spanish  and  considerable  Apache; 
had  lived  among  the  White  Mountains  at  Camp 
Apache,  and  was  a  great  favorite  with  Chief  Pedro, 
there.  "  Man  of  Iron,"  the  White  Mountains  called 
him, 

195 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

He  was  of  powerful  build,  and  stern-looking;  apt 
to  be  of  few  words,  right  to  the  point;  but  he  had  a 
kind  heart  He  was  now  acting  chief  of  scouts,  from 
Whipple  and  Camp  Verde. 

Lieutenant  Jacob  Almy  dead — murdered?  That 
was  shocking  news.  Everybody  liked  First  Lieutenant 
Jacob  Almy,  of  the  Fifth  Cavalry.  Since  he  had  been 
put  in  charge  of  the  Indians  at  San  Carlos,  by  his 
gentle  but  firmly  just  methods  he  had  made  many 
friends  among  them,  also. 

General  Crook  was  energetic,  as  usual.  He  set  out 
early  the  next  morning,  on  "  Apache  "  his  mule,  with  a 
small  escort  including  Lieutenant  Bourke  his  chief 
aide,  and  Al  Sieber.  Jimmie  and  a  Mexican  herder 
accompanied,  driving  the  bunch  of  remount  horses. 

The  loose  horses  traveled  well.  The  trip  of  two 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  through  the  roughest  country 
in  Arizona  was  accomplished  in  ten  days. 

There  had  not  been  much  talk  on  the  way  over. 
The  general  acted  grimly  determined,  and  in  a  hurry. 
Camp  Apache  was  found  saddened  and  expectant. 

Having  turned  his  horses  over  to  the  post  quarter- 
master, Jimmie  saw  Micky  waiting  for  him,  beside 
the  corral  here  back  of  the  parade-ground.  Micky  was 
sitting  a  spotted  pony,  and  smiling  broadly.  He  cer- 
tainly had  the  knack  of  always  being  on  hand. 

"  Hello,  Boy^who-sleeps.  Have  you  come  over  to 
fight?  "  greeted  Micky. 

"  Has  there  been  a  fight  yet,  Micky?  " 

"  Only  a  little  one,  when  those  Chuntz  men  ran 
away.  But  we  are  ready." 

196 


BAD  WORK  AFOOT 

"Where  is  Chuntz?" 

"  He  and  Long-ear  and  Cochinay  are  hiding  in  the 
canyon  of  the  Gila.  Tied  Horse  has  been  arrested. 
If  we  go  after  those  others  there  will  be  good  righting. 
The  canyon  is  deep  and  long  and  full  of  caves.  Would 
you  like  another  cave  fight,  Cheemie?  " 

"  I'd  like  to  get  Chuntz  and  Long-ear,"  vowed 
Jimmie. 

"  So  would  I.  Come  on.  Pretty  soon  Sibi  the 
Iron  Man  will  talk  with  old  Pedro,  and  you  and  I  will 
want  to  hear  what  they  say.  Sibi  can  talk  Apache, 
but  he  cannot  talk  as  fast  as  Pedro,  or  as  you  and  I. 
We  will  help." 

The  general  was  in  confab  at  the  post  headquarters 
with  Major  Randall  and  Al.  There  were  fifteen  hun- 
dred Finals,  Arivaipas,  Yavapais,  and  Tontos  at  San 
Carlos — many  of  them  now  very  restless  under  guard. 
Nobody  might  foretell  just  what  was  about  to  happen. 

Soon  after  Jimmie  had  begun  a  sort  of  a  reunion 
with  Alchise  and  Nan-ta-je  and  Bobby  Do-klinny  and 
others,  at  the  Camp  Apache  agency  building,  Mr.  Sieber 
came  riding  by. 

"Jimmie,"  he  summoned,  with  crook  of  finger, 
"you  ride  along  with  me.  I  may  have  use  for  you. 
Bring  Free,  if  you  want  to." 

"  I'm  going  for  a  talk  with  Pedro,"  he  continued, 
in  Spanish,  so  that  Micky  might  understand.  Micky 
knew  no  English.  "  If  he  talks  too  fast  for  me,  I  want 
one  of  you  to  explain.  And  the  same  way  if  I  speak 
with  words  that  he  doesn't  know." 

"We  will  talk  for  you,  Sibi,"  answered  Micky. 

197 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

Old  Chief  Pedro  of  the  White  Mountain  Apaches 
was,  as  everybody  said,  the  wisest,  most  sensible  chief 
among  the  tame  Indians.  They  found  him  at  home, 
sitting  upon  a  blanket  in  the  shade  of  a  tree  near  his 
house.  Since  he  had  come  back  from  Washington  he 
had  put  up  a  board  shanty,  to  live  in  instead  of  a  brush 
wickyup.  He  was  still  wearing  a  white  shirt — which 
was  white  no  longer. 

In  spite  of  the  soiled  ragged  shirt,  a  splendid  old 
Indian  he  looked  to  be. 

"  You  are  well  come,  Sibi,"  he  remarked.  "  Sit 
down  and  we  will  talk.  But  who  is  this  boy  with  one 
leg  shorter  than  the  other?  I  do  not  know  him." 

"  He  is  a  friend  of  mine,  and  of  Micky  Free," 
replied  Al.  "  He  was  captured  by  Geronimo,  and  lived 
with  Cochise  and  Geronimo.  He  was  a  soldier  at  the 
cave  fight  when  the  Yavapai  were  destroyed.  He  is  a 
brave  boy.  The  leg  was  made  short  by  a  wound.  We 
may  speak  freely  before  him." 

"  That  is  good,"  answered  Pedro.  "  I  know  you, 
and  I  know  this  wild  Red-head.  Now  I  know  this 
other.  I  remember  who  he  is.  What  have  you  come 
to  say,  Sibi  ?  Did  Cluke  send  you  ?  " 

They  all  sat  down:  Al  beside  Pedro,  but  Jimmie 
and  Micky  a  little  way  apart  from  them,  as  was  correct 
when  in  the  company  of  chiefs. 

"  The  Gray  Fox  is  talking  with  Major  Randall," 
said  Al.  "  That  was  bad  work  at  San  Carlos,  Pedro. 
You  are  a  wise  chief,  and  you  know  Apaches.  General 
Crook  wishes  to  do  what  is  right  by  all  the  Apaches. 
He  wishes  peace,  so  that  we  may  all  live  together  and 

198 


BAD  WORK  AFOOT 

prosper.  No  one  prospers  long  in  war.  What  is  the 
best  course  to  follow  with  these  bad  Indians?  Can 
they  be  made  good?  " 

"  Let  us  talk  in  Mexican,  Sibi,"  spoke  Chief  Pedro. 
"  And  if  you  or  I  use  words  that  are  not  understood, 
the  Red-head  or  maybe  the  short-leg  boy  will  explain. 
This  talk  must  be  very  clear.  Now,  there  is  no  way 
to  make  those  bad  Apaches  good,  except  to  kill  them. 
The  bad  Indians  do  not  know  what  I  know ;  they  have 
not  been  to  the  cities  of  the  Great  White  Father  and 
seen  how  powerful  he  is.  I  will  give  Cluke  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  of  my  warriors,  smart  fighters  all.  Let 
Cluke  send  them  into  the  Gila  Canyon.  The  Gray  Fox 
is  brave,  and  his  white  soldiers  are  brave,  but  the 
Chuntz  people  will  go  where  his  soldiers  cannot  follow ; 
this  is  summer,  and  they  know  every  spot  in  the  can- 
yon, and  will  hide. 

"  But  my  Apaches  will  find  them,  and  kill  some  of 
them.  Then  my  men  will  come  home,  and  rest  a 
while,  and  go  out  and  kill  more.  By  winter  time  there 
will  be  fewer  of  the  mean  Apaches;  and  if  they  do  not 
all  die  during  the  winter,  in  the  spring  we  will  kill  the 
rest  of  them.  But  if  Cluke  waits  till  winter,  before 
that  time  the  bad  Indians  will  have  made  much  more 
trouble  at  San  Carlos,  and  perhaps  among  my  White 
Mountains,  and  perhaps  among  the  Chiricahua." 

"  I  will  think  on  what  you  have  said,"  responded  Al. 

"  It  will  be  no  use  to  send  you  or  any  other  person 
into  the  canyon,  to  spend  words  on  those  people,"  pro- 
ceeded Pedro.  "  They  will  burn  him,  and  will  send 
back  an  old  woman  to  fell  Cluke  to  give  them  more 

199 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

of  his  men,  to  burn.  Now  I  am  done,  Man  of  Iron. 
I  cannot  read  from  paper,  but  I  can  look  at  the  actions 
of  a  bad  Indian,  and  can  read  how  he  feels  and  what 
he  will  do." 

"  Humph !  "  mused  Al,  as  with  Jimmie  and  Micky 
he  rode  away.  "  I  believe  old  Pedro  is  right." 

The  next  afternoon  the  general  held  a  talk  at  the 
San  Carlos  agency  with  Es-kim-en-zin,  of  the  Arivai- 
pas,  and  with  those  Tonto  and  Yavapai  chiefs  who  had 
not  joined  Chuntz. 

The  San  Carlos  agency  was  seventy  miles  southwest 
from  Camp  Apache,  where  the  San  Carlos  River 
emptied  into  the  Gila.  This  San  Carlos  reservation 
was  really  an  addition  to  the  southern  boundary  of  the 
White  Mountain  reservation.  It  was  sixty  miles  wide 
and  extended  clear  to  the  New  Mexico  line,  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  miles.  The  eastern  half  was  rough 
and  mountainous,  but  the  western  half,  along  the  Gila 
River,  was  flatter  and  more  open — especially  around 
the  agency,  where  the  Indians  were  supposed  to  live. 

The  majority  of  the  Apaches  did  not  like  it.  They 
said  that  it  was  low,  hot  and  unhealthful. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  there  are  bad  hearts  at 
work  among  you,"  spoke  the  general.  Concepcion 
Equierre  translated.  "  They  have  deceived  you  into 
believing  that  the  white  people  might  be  killed,  and 
that  the  Apaches  might  be  free  to  rob  and  murder 
again.  Now  the  innocent  have  suffered.  Lieutenant 
Almy,  one  of  your  best  friends,  has  been  killed,  and 
you  all  are  prevented  from  going  about  on  hunts  an3 
visits. 

200 


BAD  WORK  AFOOT 

"  I  want  you  all  to  live  as  free  as  the  white  men. 
I  do  not  expect  you  to  stop  being  red  men.  I  want 
your  women  to  gather  mescal  and  seeds  and  roots,  and 
your  men  to  hunt  deer  and  turkeys  without  fear;  for 
these  things  are  good  to  eat.  But  you  cannot  do  this 
without  fear,  when  there  is  war. 

"  Now  about  these  Chuntz  and  Long-ear  bad  men. 
I  have  thousands  of  soldiers,  and  many  Apache  scouts, 
and  they  are  enough  to  give  the  bad  Apaches  no  rest. 
But  I  want  you  to  punish  your  own  bad  people.  You 
must  send  out  your  own  warriors,  and  keep  sending 
them  out  until  Chuntz  and  Long-ear  and  Cochinay  are 
killed  or  captured,  and  their  people  surrender.  It  is 
not  right  that  a  few  bad  men  should  work  so  much 
harm  to  everybody.  I  hope  that  you  will  consider 
what  I  have  said.  I  am  done." 

All  that  summer  of  1873  and  into  the  next  summer 
the  San  Carlos  and  White  Mountain  police,  assisted 
by  cavalry  and  infantry  detachments  patrolling  the 
hills,  harassed  the  outlaws.  Wherever  the  Chuntz 
people  moved,  in  the  Canyon  of  the  Gila,  the  reser- 
vation Apaches  were  ferreting  them  out. 

Some  of  the  outlaws  sent  in  word  that  they  were 
ready  to  surrender.  They  were  told  that  they  might 
come  in  if  they  brought  Chuntz,  Long-ear  and  Cochi- 
nay. Finally  the  outlaws  were  hunting  their  chiefs. 

Cochinay  was  killed  on  May  26,  1874;  Long-ear 
was  killed  on  June  12;  Chuntz  the  villain  was  killed 
on  July  25.  A  whole  sackful  of  heads  was  spilled  by 
the  Apache  police  upon  the  ground  in  front  of  Major 
John  B.  Babcock's  headquarters,  at  San  Carlos,  to 
prove  that  "  peace  "  was  being  made! 

201 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

Over  at  Verde,  Delt-che  had  broken  out  and  had 
been  killed,  in  July. 

So  by  mid-summer  of  1874  the  bad-hearted  chiefs 
seemed  all  out  of  the  way,  at  last.  Old  Cochise,  also, 
had  died,  in  June,  on  the  Chiricahua  reservation,  and 
Taza  was  the  head  chief.  He  could  be  depended  upon, 
for  peace. 

Meanwhile  Jimmie  was  helping  to  run  the  first 
telegraph  lines  in  Arizona,  connecting  military  post 
with  military  post.  He  stayed  in  telegraph  work  some 
years — during  which  a  number  of  things  happened. 


XVIII 

"CLUKE"  GOES  AWAY 

THE  general's  plans  had  apparently  worked  out  all 
right,  when  for  no  especial  reason,  as  far  as  Arizona 
could  understand,  the  management  of  the  reservations 
was  changed  from  the  Military  Department  of  Arizona 
to  the  civilian  agents  appointed  by  the  Indian  Bureau 
at  Washington.  The  soldiers  were  to  be  retained  only 
as  guards  and  not  as  instructors. 

The  Indian  Bureau  started  in  to  move  the  Apaches 
about.  That  had  been  tried  two  years  before,  when 
in  New  Mexico  Chief  Victorio's  Warm  Spring 
Apaches  had  been  ordered  from  the  Canada  Alamosa 
to  the  hated  Tularosa  tract.  But  General  Howard  had 
obtained  from  the  President  permission  for  them  to 
live  again  at  their  beloved  Cottonwood  Canyon. 

In  the  summer  of  1874  it  was  reported  that  the 
Camp  Verde  Indians  were  to  be  taken  over  to  the  San 
Carlos  reservation.  The  Camp  Verde  lands  were  de- 
sired by  the  white  people. 

General  Crook  had  much  opposed  this  scheme.  He 
was  powerless,  but  he  sent  a  protest  to  the  War  Depart- 
ment, saying: 

There  are  now  on  the  Verde  reservation  about  fifteen  hun- 
dred Indians;  they  have  been  among  the  worst  in  Arizona;  but 
if  the  Government  keeps  its  promise  to  them  that  it  shall  be  their 
home  for  all  time,  there  will  be  no  difficulty  in  keeping  them  at 
peace,  and  engaged  in  peaceful  pursuits.  I  sincerely  hope  that 
the  interests  that  are  now  at  work  to  deprive  these  Indians  of 
this  reservation  will  be  defeated ;  but  if  they  succeed,  the  respon- 

203 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

sibility  of  turning  these  fifteen  hundred  Apaches  loose  upon  the 
settlers  of  Arizona  should  rest  where  it  belongs. 

All  that  winter  of  1874-1875  the  general  (who  had 
given  his  word)  and  Chief  Chalipun  strove  against  the 
threatened  change  to  the  San  Carlos  reservation.  But 
it  was  of  no  avail. 

In  the  spring  of  1875  the  general  had  been  trans- 
ferred to  the  Department  of  the  Platte,  with  head- 
quarters at  Omaha,  Nebraska.  He  had  pacified  the 
Snakes  in  the  Northwest  and  the  Apaches  in  the  South- 
west; now  he  was  needed  to  subdue  the  bold-riding 
Sioux  and  Cheyennes  of  the  great  northern  plains. 

He  took  with  him  Lieutenant  John  G.  Bourke,  chief 
of  staff,  and  other  officers  whom  Jimmie  so  well  knew. 
Tom  Moore,  chief  packer,  was  to  follow  with  the  best 
of  the  pack-trains.  The  Third  Cavalry  already  was  in 
the  north ;  and  the  Fifth  Cavalry  was  soon  to  go. 

"  Cluke  has  been  sent  away.  The  Apaches  have 
lost  their  best  friend,"  mourned  Chief  Chalipun;  and 
submitted  to  being  removed.  So  the  Yavapais  and  the 
Apache- Yumas  at  Camp  Verde  left  their  ditch  and 
fields,  and  went  to  a  strange  region — that  of  San  Carlos. 

Young  Second  Lieutenant  George  O.  Eaton,  of  the 
Fifth  Cavalry,  was  the  only  man  whom  they  would 
trust,  to  take  them  over.  Even  at  that,  on  the  way 
they  had  a  fight  among  themselves,  and  eighteen  were 
killed  and  fifty  wounded. 

The  White  Mountains  were  moved,  next,  down  to 
the  San  Carlos.  Their  reservation  was  to  be  closed. 

Whatever  the  reasons  of  the  Indian  Bureau,  Chiefs 
Pedro,  Pi-to-ne  and  others  objected  bitterly. 

204 


CLUKE  GOES  AWAY 

"These  are  our  lands,"  asserted  Chief  Pedro. 
"  They  were  promised  to  us  by  the  great  one-armed 
soldier-captain,  Howard.  When  I  went  to  Washing- 
ton, our  White  Father  there  told  me  again  that  if  we 
were  good,  these  should  be  our  lands  forever.  We 
have  been  good.  We  have  done  as  we  were  asked  to 
do.  We  have  raised  more  crops  than  all  the  other 
Apaches  put  together.  We  have  helped  the  soldiers 
fight  our  brothers.  We  are  contented  here.  But  we 
are  mountain  Indians  and  we  cannot  live  down  there 
in  the  low  country  where  the  water  is  bad  and  the  air 
is  hot.  The  Finals  and  the  Arivaipas  are  not  friendly 
to  us,  and  the  Yavapai  ways  are  not  our  ways." 

Finally  eighteen  hundred  of  them  were  herded 
down  to  the  San  Carlos.  Some  hid  out,  and  after  a 
time  many  stole  back  from  the  San  Carlos.  The  sol- 
diers at  Camp  Apache  permitted  them  to  stay. 

The  next  year,  1876,  the  Chiricahua  reservation 
was  broken  up.  It  had  no  soldiers  and  no  Indian 
police,  and  was  too  near  the  border.  Whiskey-sellers 
and  outlaw  Apaches  sneaked  in,  but  Taza  said  that  if 
the  American  government  would  help  him  he  could 
keep  the  bad  people  out. 

"  Why  does  Washington  punish  good  people  on 
account  of  bad  people? "  he  asked,  when  told  that  the 
Chiricahuas  must  go. 

At  last,  with  about  three  hundred  of  his  Chirica- 
huas, he  went  to  the  San  Carlos.  Geronimo  agreed 
to  go,  too ;  but  he  and  Chief  Whoa,  who  had  come  in 
from  Mexico,  and  old  Nana,  and  Nah-che,  and  four 
hundred  others,  ran  off  into  Mexico. 

205 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

The  next  spring  they  returned  to  visit  Victorious 
Warm  Spring  band  at  the  Cottonwood  Canyon  reser- 
vation. Because  of  this,  Chiefs  Victorio  and  Geronimo 
were  arrested,  and  all  the  Indians  were  started,  under 
guard,  for  the  San  Carlos. 

On  the  way  Chief  Victorio  escaped,  with  forty  war- 
riors. After  this  he  made  war  on  the  Americans  until 
he  was  killed  in  1880.  He  claimed  that  he  had  done 
no  wrong,  and  that  he  never  could  trust  the  Americans 
again. 

"  The  policy  of  concentration/*  was  what  the  Indian 
Bureau  called  its  scheme  to  place  all  the  Apaches  upon 
the  San  Carlos  reservation.     "A  policy  of  concen- 
trated trouble,"  Al  Sieber  said. 
And  that  proved  true. 

Soon  the  San  Carlos  reservation  contained  about 
five  thousand  Indians,  good  and  bad;  some  working, 
some  lazy.  There  were  Yavapais,  Tontos,  Coyotes, 
Apache- Yumas,  Chiricahuas,  Finals,  Arivaipas,  Sierra 
Blanca.  (White  Mountains),  and  even  a  few  Hualpais. 
They  had  different  habits.  The  Indian  Bureau  seemed 
to  think  that  one  Apache  was  just  like  another  Apache, 
but  General  Crook  had  known  better. 

Whiskey  was  being  smuggled  in  or  manufactured ; 
white  miners  and  ranchers  and  prospectors  were  tres- 
passing, and  large  sections  of  the  reservation  had  been 
lopped  off  for  other  uses ;  the  agents  were  accused  of 
selling  the  Indians'  supplies  outside,  instead  of  dis- 
tributing them  properly  or  storing  them;  the  Indians 
quarreled  among  themselves,  and  even  some  of  the 
White  Mountains  had  revolted. 

206 


CLUKE  GOES  AWAY 

So  in  the  early  morning  of  April,  1882,  Jimmie 
Dunn,  riding  telegraph  line  up  along  the  Gila  River 
from  Camp  Thomas,  had  plenty  to  think  about  Jimmie 
was  a  young  man,  now,  with  a  limp  (an  honorable 
limp)  but  with  a  good  hard  head. 

Camp  Thomas  had  been  established  just  at  the 
southeast  corner  of  the  San  Carlos  reservation,  or 
thirty-two  miles  up  the  Gila  from  the  agency  quarters. 
Jimmie's  business  as  line-man  was  to  ride  between 
Thomas  and  the  second  Camp  Grant,  and  to  see  that 
the  line  was  in  order. 

There  was  still  constant  trouble  at  San  Carlos. 
The  Apaches  there  had  no  faith  in  the  Government. 
The  good  ones  saw  little  reason  in  remaining  good. 
Their  only  reward  had  been  San  Carlos,  and  they  hated 
San  Carlos.  The  Chiricahuas  especially  were  restive. 
A  long  time  ago  Taza  had  died,  while  in  Washington 
trying  to  talk  for  his  people.  Geronimo  was  head 
chief,  and  Nah-che  was  his  partner  in  everything. 

Parties  frequently  broke  away  from  the  reservation, 
for  Mexico.  At  this  very  moment  Chief  Whoa  and 
Nah-che  were  out  again,  with  a  band.  They  had  fled 
to  join  old  Nana,  who  at  almost  ninety  years  was  living 
wild! 

Geronimo  and  two  hundred  of  his  Chiricahuas,  and 
Loco  and  the  Warm  Spring  Apaches,  were  at  the  San 
Carlos,  but  likely  enough  they  would  run  away,  too, 
whenever  they  took  the  notion.  They  despised  the 
Taza  people  as  "  squaws  "  and  cowards ;  the  other 
Indians,  in  turn,  despised  them  as  trouble-makers. 

General  Crook  was  in  the  north.     He  had  con- 

207 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

quered  the  Sioux  and  the  Cheyennes,  and  was  busy 
keeping  them  at  peace. 

General  O.  B.  Willcox,  of  the  Twelfth  Infantry, 
commanded  in  Arizona.  The  Sixth  Cavalry  had  re- 
placed the  Fifth  Cavalry.  But  there  were  not  enough 
soldiers,  most  of  the  white  interpreters  and  scouts  had 
been  discharged,  and  the  Apache  police  were  supposed 
to  maintain  order  upon  the  reservation. 

The  military  telegraph  had  connected  all  the  army 
posts.  There  was  a  civil  telegraph,  also — for  the  rail- 
road had  arrived. 

The  Southern  Pacific  Railroad  crossed  the  southern 
part  of  the  Territory,  about  by  the  old  stage  route. 
Through  the  northern  part  of  the  Territory  the  Atlantic 
&  Pacific  Railroad  was  crossing  the  great  Mogollon 
Plateau,  where  General  Crook  had  broken  a  trail  in 
the  campaign  of  ten  years  ago. 

The  telegraph  line  had  puzzled  the  Apaches  very 
much,  as  "  big  medicine."  They  called  it  "  pesh-bi- 
yal-ti  " — "  the  talking  wire."  But  they  were  learning 
to  interfere  with  it  by  cutting  it,  and  inserting  a  little 
piece  of  rubber.  Then  the  wire  quit  "  talking." 

A  sharp  eye  was  required  to  see  such  a  break,  which 
usually  was  near  a  pole  or  tree  up  which  the  Indians 
had  shinned.  Jimmie  had  the  eye.  Also,  he  was  not 
afraid.  He  was  accustomed  to  the  country,  and  to 
the  Apaches. 

Sometimes  he  saw  parties  of  them.  If  they  were 
running  away,  they  were  in  too  much  of  a  hurry  to 
stop.  If  they  were  hunting,  they  were  friendly. 
However,  the  run-aways  did  not  cross  hereabouts. 

208 


CLUKE  GOES  AWAY 

They  took  another  route,  further  east,  along  the  New 
Mexico  western  border. 

As  a  rule,  Jimmie  rode  with  a  partner;  but  to-day 
his  partner  was  ill.  Jimmie  felt  capable  of  repairing 
any  break  by  himself,  whether  the  Indians  had  made 
it,  or  whether  the  limb  of  a  tree  had  fallen.  The  line 
had  to  be  ridden,  anyway. 

The  military  road  was  very  quiet.  It  stretched  on, 
up  hill  and  down,  through  timber  and  open  parks,  with 
the  Gila  River  on  the  left,  and  far  on  the  right,  or  the 
south,  the  dark  Pinaleno  Mountains,  beyond  which 
lay  Camp  Grant.  Pretty  soon  the  telegraph  line  would 
head  down  there.  He  would  ride  on  until  he  met  an- 
other rider,  coming  from  Grant. 

The  San  Carlos  reservation  was  behind,  to  the 
northwest,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Gila;  and  away  in 
the  north,  beyond  a  high  ridge,  was  the  White  Moun- 
tain reservation,  with  old  Camp  Apache  that  was  now 
Fort  Apache. 

He  was  about  ten  miles  out  of  Camp  Thomas,  and 
jogging  easily.  The  only  moving  things  that  he  had 
sighted  were  rabbits  and  squirrels,  and  once  or  twice 
a  deer.  But  now  when  from  a  rise  he  looked  across 
the  Gila,  he  saw,  in  the  distance  to  the  north,  a  great 
cloud  of  dust. 

That  froze  him.  It  appeared  mighty  suspicious. 
Many  people,  and  horses  or  cattle,  would  stir  up  such  a 
dust.  In  that  case,  Indians!  This  was  not  white 
man's  country. 

If  they  were  Indians,  they  were  moving  very  fast, 
and  striking  east,  like  run-aways  from  San  Carlos.  Or 

14  209 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

was  it  cavalry,  riding  hard  ?  But  if  it  was  cavalry,  that 
meant  Indians,  too. 

Well,  he'd  soon  find  out.  The  Gila,  running  bank 
full,  was  some  distance  below;  the  country  beyond, 
approached  by  the  dust,  was  open  and  rolling.  He  had 
.a  fine  view.  So  sitting  his  horse,  Jimmie  whipped  off 
his  field-glasses  and  leveled  them.  Ash  Flats  sprang 
into  the  field;  and  here  surged  the  brown  dust,  and 
under  it,  into  the  clear  of  a  little  swale,  streamed  a  mass 
of  hastily  scurrying  figures. 

Indians,  sure! 


XIX 

JIMMIE  SENDS  THE  ALARM 

FIRST  there  were  fifteen  or  twenty  mounted  war- 
riors, as  an  advance  guard.  Then  there  followed  about 
one  hundred  and  fifty  other  warriors,  all  with  rifles, 
and  stripped  and  painted  to  fight.  Then  there  trooped 
and  jostled  a  large  procession  of  squaws  and  children, 
mostly  afoot,  herding  a  tremendous  bunch  of  loose 
horses  and  mules,  and  packing  camp  stuff. 

There  must  have  been  five  hundred  squaws  and 
children,  and  six  or  seven  thousand  animals,  not  count- 
ing dogs !  A  small  guard  of  warriors  were  riding  the 
rear  flanks  of  the  march.  It  certainly  was  a  big  out- 
break of  the  San  Carlos  Chiricahuas,  and  they  were 
hot-footing  for  Mexico ! 

Whew!  Where  were  the  police  and  the  soldiers, 
then?  Jimmie  swept  the  landscape  for  sign  of  them, 
and  saw  nothing.  He  clapped  his  glasses  closed.  His 
eyes  leaped  to  the  nearest  telegraph  pole.  His  duty 
was  clear.  He  ought  to  send  word  at  once  to  Camp 
Thomas. 

Just  as  he  was  about  to  swing  down,  tie  his  horse, 
and  climb  the  pole,  he  sighted,  with  a  last  glance  of 
his  eye,  four  Indians  swimming  the  river  below,  with 
their  ponies.  Either  he  had  been  seen,  or  else  they 
were  coming  to  cut  the  wire.  Maybe  both. 

Already  the  foremost  was  urging  his  pony  up  out 
of  the  water's  edge,  to  the  bank  on  this  side.  Of  course 
they  had  seen  him,  as  he  sat !  But  he  still  had  a  chance 

211 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

to  race  back,  to  the  fort,  and  give  the  alarm.  No; 
that  would  lose  an  hour,  or  more.  Likely  enough  the 
wire  from  San  Carlos  to  the  fort  had  been  cut;  at  the 
rate  that  those  Chiricahuas  were  traveling,  every  minute 
was  precious  if  they  were  to  be  headed  off. 

He  ought  to  climb  the  pole  and  tap  the  wire.  If 
he  could  not  raise  Thomas  in  the  one  direction,  he 
might  raise  Grant,  in  the  other.  But  he'd  have  to  work 
fast.  Lives  were  at  stake,  for  no  settler  could  stop 
those  bronc's. 

Jimmie  resolutely  tumbled  off  his  horse,  in  a  jiffy 
strapped  on  his  climbing  irons,  left  his  horse,  and  his 
rifle  in  scabbard  (a  rifle  would  be  of  no  use  up  there), 
and  ran  for  the  pole.  And  this  was  a  brave  act,  for 
he  might  easily  have  run,  horseback,  in  another  direc- 
tion— back  to  Camp  Thomas,  or  to  hide  in  the  farther 
timber  until  the  Indians  had  gone  after  cutting  the  wire. 

At  top  speed  he  shinned  up  the  pole,  and  digging  in, 
rapidly  unshipped  his  line-man's  little  sending  kit,  in 
order  to  break  in  on  the  wire  and  call  the  Camp  Thomas 
operator.  He  did  not  dare  to  watch  the  movements  of 
those  four  Indians. 

No  doubt  the  four  were  coming  full  tilt,  up  from 
the  river  and  through  the  brush;  but  if  he  tried  to 
watch  them  he  would  be  nervous  and  make  false 
motions.  The  thing  for  him  to  do  was  to  clamp  on  to 
that  line,  and  get  there  first.  That  required  swift,  sure 
work,  and  all  his  attention.  So  he  endeavored  not  to 
think  of  the  four  Indians. 

Never  had  he  felt  so  high  in  the  air,  and  so  much 
exposed.  Almost  any  other  pole  would  have  been 

212 


JIMMIE  SENDS  THE  ALARM 

better,  but  none  had  been  as  near  and  convenient.  He 
made  a  splendid  mark,  like  a  hawk  roosting  in  a  dead 
tree. 

"  Ping !  "  A  bullet !  They  were  shooting  at  him  I 
"Pung!"  That  was  the  report,  following.  "Whing!" 
"  Pung! "  But  he  must  not  mind  the  warning.  He 
needed  only  a  minute  more.  As  he  worked  rapidly 
his  ringers  seemed  all  thumbs.  He  did  not  dare  to  take 
his  eyes  off  them.  "  Thud-bang!  "  The  bullet  shook 
the  pole,  and  the  report  was  so  close  that  the  shooter 
could  not  be  far  away.  He  heard  shrill  yells,  some- 
where below 

"  Whack-bang !  "  A  heavy  hammer  fell  on  the  top 
of  his  shoulder,  and  well  nigh  knocked  him  from  his 
perch.  He  clung  desperately,  wrapping  himself 
tighter — his  shoulder  stung  and  was  oddly  warm — 
but  it  was  his  left  shoulder,  he  was  on  the  wire  at 
last,  and  was  sending  with  his  right  hand. 

"  D,"  "  D,"  *  D,"  he  called  Camp  Thomas. 

There  was  thud  of  hoofs  below,  a  chorus  of  angry 
yells— "  Whish-bang!"  a  bullet  fanned  his  cheek — 
"  Ping-bang !  "  another  cut  a  large  sliver  from  the  pole 
close  to  his  neck—"  D,"  "  D,"  "  D,"  he  kept  calling, 
even  while  he  glanced  aside. 

The  four  Indians  were  into  the  road  and  tearing 
for  him,  rifles  leveled  upward — he  saw  smoke,  heard 
the  bullets — but  the  Thomas  operator  had  answered. 

"  i_i  D,"  "  I— I  D." 

Now  for  the  ten  seconds'  grace ! 

"  Injuns  out.    Big  band " 

Camp  Thomas  broke. 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"Repeat.    Who  are  you?" 

"  Too  nervous.  Steady,  boy/'  cautioned  Jimmie,  to 
himself.  He  was  not  an  expert  operator,  anyway. 
But  this  was  a  crisis. 

He  hastily  started  to  repeat.  The  four  Indians 
were  right  at  the  foot  of  the  pole,  yelling  at  him. 

"  Get  down,  get  down !  "  they  ordered,  furiously, 
in  Apache.  He  gazed  full  into  their  upturned,  painted 
faces — and  into  the  muzzles  of  their  rifles;  and  he 
grinned  sickly  and  continued  to  send. 

"  Injuns  out.  Big  band.  Sig.,  Dunn.  Injuns  out. 
Big  Band.  Sig.,  Dunn.  Injuns  out.  Big  band.  Sig., 
Dunn." 

Would  Camp  Thomas  never  O.  K.  ?  Would  those 
muzzles  below  never  belch  their  balls  and  rip  him  and 
hurl  him  headlong? 

"  No  tiras  (Don't  shoot)  !  "  suddenly  yelped  one 
of  the  voices,  from  one  of  the  painted  faces. 

Nah-che !  And  Chato  ( Flat-nose) ,  too !  The  muz- 
zles were  lowered — the  scowling  Chato's  last  of  all. 

"  Come  down,  chi-kis-n,"  ordered  Nah-che. 

But  Jimmie  only  shook  his  head,  while  he  worked 
his  key. 

"  Come  down  or  we  shoot  you  down,"  blared  Flat- 
nose  ;  and  he  drew  a  deadly  bead. 

But  Thomas  had  broken  in  at  last. 

"  O.  K.    Where?  "  ticked  Camp  Thomas. 

"  Ash  Flats.    Head  east.    Bronc's  and  squaws." 

"  O.  K.     Get  off  wire,"  answered  Camp  Thomas. 

"  Bang !  "  sounded  Chato's  rifle,  and  Jimmie's  little 
instrument  flew  into  fragments.  But  Jimmie  cared 

214 


JIMMIE  SENDS  THE  ALARM 

not,  now.  He  went  sliding  painfully  down;  landed 
right  in  the  midst  of  the  four  Indians,  staggered — two 
of  them  were  afoot,  waiting  for  him — they  sprang  at 
him,  and  wrenched  his  revolver  from  its  holster.  They 
acted  as  though  they  were  going  to  kill  him,  or  take 
him  along,  when  Nah-che  interfered. 

"No!"  he  ordered,  while  Chato  scowled.  But 
Nah-che  was  obeyed,  because  he  was  a  grown  warrior 
and  son  of  Cochise.  "  What  were  you  doing,  chi- 
kis-n  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  I  talked  with  Camp  Thomas,"  answered  Jimmie, 
defiantly. 

"What  did  you  say?" 

"  I  said  that  the  Chiricahua  were  running  away." 

The  three  other  Indians  murmured  angrily.  The 
two  young  bucks  besides  Nah-che  and  Chato  Jimmie 
did  not  know.  He  had  not  seen  Nah-che  and  Chato 
for  several  years,  either.  They  had  grown.  Chato 
was  ugly,  because  of  his  flattened  nose,  but  Nah-che 
was  supple  and  handsome. 

"  No  matter,"  said  Nah-che,  to  his  companions. 
"This  is  my  brother.  He  did  right.  He  is  brave. 
He  shall  not  be  harmed.  Give  him  his  gun  and  let  him 
alone.  We  are  not  afraid  of  the  soldiers."  He  ad- 
dressed Jimmie.  "  Yes,  chi-kis-n,  we  are  running 
away — all  the  Warm  Springs  and  Chiricahua  except 
the  Taza  band.  There  are  many  of  us,  and  we  know 
there  are  not  enough  soldiers  in  Arizona  to  stop  us. 
We  can  whip  the  Camp  Thomas  soldiers  first,  and  whip 
the  rest  as  they  come.  Geronimo  is  with  us,  and  Loco, 
and  one  hundred  warriors  who  belong  to  Juh  and  me." 

215 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"  Why  are  you  running  away,  chi-kis-n  ?  "  asked 
Jimmie.  "  I  thought  you  and  Juh  were  already  run 
away.  People  said  you  were  in  Mexico." 

"  We  were,"  replied  Nah-che.  "  We  live  in  Mex- 
ico. That  is  the  only  place  for  us.  Nana  is  there,  too ; 
and  Chihuahua.  Now  Juh  and  I  have  come  up  to  help 
Geronimo  and  Loco  get  away."  He  began  to  talk 
hotly.  "  Why  do  we  all  run  away  ?  That  is  a  foolish 
question.  We  will  not  be  moved  around  so,  and  put  in 
sickly  places  among  Indians  who  don't  like  us.  We 
would  have  stayed  at  our  home  in  the  Dragoon  Moun- 
tains, and  have  been  happy.  A  few  of  us  drank 
whiskey  sold  us  by  bad  white  men,  and  we  all  were 
blamed.  The  San  Carlos  is  not  a  good  place.  The 
White  Mountains  tell  false  stories  about  us,  the  agents 
steal  our  rations  from  us  and  we  go  hungry.  The 
white  traders  would  rather  sell  things  to  us,  and  cheat 
us.  So  Juh  and  I  ran  away.  Now  there  is  talk  that 
the  white  men  want  all  the  San  Carlos  country,  be- 
cause of  mines,  and  that  the  Apaches  will  be  taken 
away,  many  miles,  to  a  strange  land.  Geronimo  says 
he  has  been  told  to  come  to  Camp  Thomas,  for  a  talk — 
and  if  he  goes  there,  he  will  be  put  in  prison  again; 
maybe  killed,  like  Mangas  Coloradas  was  killed.  We 
would  rather  die  on  the  warpath  than  die  in  prison  or 
in  a  strange  land.  So  we  all,  the  Chiricahua  and  the 
Warm  Springs,  except  Taza's  squaw-people,  will  live 
in  the  Mexican  mountains.  There  we  can  lead  our  own 
life.  The  Mexicans  dare  not  fight  us,  we  have  plenty 
guns  and  plenty  food,  the  American  soldiers  cannot 
cross  the  line,  to  follow  us." 

216 


JIMMIE  SENDS  THE  ALARM 

"  Don't  you  fool  yourself,"  retorted  Jimmie. 
"  Crook  will  come,  and  he  will  go  anywhere/' 

"  Cluke  is  a  good  man.  If  he  had  stayed,  maybe 
there  would  be  peace  instead  of  war,"  responded 
Nah-che.  "  There  has  been  one  other  good  man,  at 
San  Carlos.  He  was  the  soldier-captain  Chaffee. 
Why  does  the  White  Father  at  Washington  let  us  be 
cheated,  like  children,  by  dishonest  agents  ?  Why  does 
he  listen  to  bad  tongues,  that  say  we  must  not  stay 
where  we  were  promised  we  might  stay  ?  But  good-by, 
chi-kis-n.  Now  there  is  war  between  us.  The  Chiri- 
cahua  are  never  coming  back  to  be  cheated  again.  You 
have  been  chi-kis-n;  but  you  are  American  and  I  am 
Apache,  so  when  we  meet  in  war,  look  out  for  yourself. 
It  will  be  man  to  man.  We  are  no  longer  boys." 

Nah-che  wheeled  his  pony.  With  a  whoop,  away 
they  four  tore,  flourishing  their  guns. 

Jimmie  gazed  after  only  for  a  moment.  Then  he 
was  aware  that  all  his  left  shoulder  and  arm  were 
red  and  paining.  The  bullet  had  slashed  a  furrow 
an  inch  deep  through  the  muscles  of  the  upper  arm,  but 
the  blood  was  clotting  and  he  did  not  pause  to  tie  a 
bandage  on. 

He  unstrapped  his  climbing  irons,  kicked  them  off 
as  he  stooped  to  pick  up  his  revolver,  and  hobbled  for 
his  horse ;  mounted  and  raced  for  Camp  Thomas. 

Camp  Thomas  had  only  two  reduced  companies  of 
the  Sixth  Cavalry.  When  he  got  there,  the  two 
companies  were  drawn  up  in  column  of  twos  in  front 
of  the  adjutant's  office,  as  if  ready  to  start  out.  Micky 
Free  was  here,  with  a  party  of  White  Mountain  and 

217 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

Tonto  scouts.  The  telegraph  instrument  was  clicking 
rapidly. 

"  Hello,  Cheemie !  "  intercepted  Micky,  gaily,  in 
his  Spanish,  "  You  been  fighting,  what?  " 

"  Not  much,"  panted  Jimmie,  pulling  short. 
"When  do  you  start?" 

"  Pretty  soon,  when  the  talking  wire  is  done. 
They  are  telling  what  you  said,  to  the  other  posts.  You 
did  good  work,  Cheemie.  The  wire  from  San  Carlos  is 
cut,  but  Tom  Horn  (he  was  a  white  scout  and  packer 
at  San  Carlos)  brought  more  news  by  horse,  and  Sibi 
has  been  here.  Now  they  are  out,  spying  on  the  trail, 
and  we  will  follow.  It  has  been  a  big  outbreak. 

"  Were  you  there,  Micky?  " 

"  No ;  but  I  heard  it,  and  the  agency  Indians  have 
signaled,  and  Tom  Horn  was  there.  All  the  Chief 
Loco  Warm  Springs  and  the  Geronimo  Chiricahua 
have  gone.  They  number  seven  hundred.  The  trouble 
was  this.  You  know  Stirling?  " 

Jimmie  nodded.  Mr.  Stirling  was  chief  of  the 
agency  police.  These  were  not  scouts,  but  Indians 
appointed  by  the  agent  as  policemen. 

"  Some  days  ago  Stirling  tried  to  arrest  a  Chirica- 
hua who  had  been  making  whiskey.  The  Chiricahua 
ran  and  Stirling  missed  him  and  hit  a  squaw.  That 
turned  the  Chiricahua  bad,  although  Stirling  said  he 
was  sorry.  They  have  been  getting  bad  anyway,  be- 
cause there  is  talk  that  all  the  Indians  are  to  be  moved 
far  away,  so  that  the  Americans  can  dig  coal  on  the 
reservation.  Last  night  Juh  and  Nah-che  sent  in  word 
that  they  were  near,  waiting  to  help  Loco  and  Geron- 

218 


JIMMIE  SENDS  THE  ALAUM 

imo.  This  morning  the  Chiricahua  and  Warm  Springs 
began  to  pack  up,  and  Stirling  and  Navajo  Bill,  a  police- 
man, charged  them  alone,  to  break  them  up.  The 
Chiricahua  had  been  waiting  for  this.  They  shot  Stir- 
ling one  hundred  times  at  once,  and  a  squaw  cut  off  his 
head  and  it  was  kicked  about  like  a  ball.  He  was  a 
very  brave  man,  that  Stirling.  Navajo  Bill  wasn't 
hurt,  but  another  policeman  was  killed,  and  one  Chiri- 
cahua. Now  the  Warm  Springs  and  Chiricahua  are 
out — and  I  think  they  will  keep  right  on  going." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Jimmie  soberly.  "  I  met 
!N"ah-che.  He  came  while  I  was  talking  on  the  wire. 
He  says  that  all  the  soldiers  in  Arizona  cannot  stop 
them." 

"  That  is  true,"  agreed  Micky.  "  They  have  two 
hundred  fine  warriors,  and  better  guns  than  the  sol- 
diers' guns.  They  nearly  all  have  those  guns  that 
shoot  sixteen  times,  and  lots  of  ammunition.  The 
soldiers  are  scattered,  and  before  we  get  together,  and 
the  New  Mexico  soldiers  get  together,  Geronimo  will 
be  into  Mexico.  What  was  Nah-che  doing  on  this  side 
the  river?  The  squaws  and  children  cannot  cross, 
with  the  horses.  It  is  too  high." 

"  I  think  Nah-che  brought  a  party  over  to  drive  me 
away  or  kill  me.  He  had  Chato  with  him,  and  two 
others.  But  he  made  them  quit  shooting  at  me.  We 
are  chi-kis-n." 

"  That  won't  count  again,"  warned  Micky.  "  So 
watch  out,  next  time.  This  is  war,  and  long  war. 
Now  you'd  better  get  your  arm  fixed,  Cheemie.  The 
Loco  and  Geronimo  band  will  have  to  keep  on,  up  the 

219 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

river,  until  they  can  cross.  They  will  strike  south, 
near  New  Mexico,  until  they  cross  the  border.  There 
are  no  soldiers,  ahead  in  that  country,  to  stop  them; 
and  they  wouldn't  care  if  there  were.  But  we're  to 
meet  Sibi  and  follow  and  fight  as  well  as  we  can,  under 
the  ugly  long-nosed  man." 

That  was  Lieutenant  George  Gate  wood,  of  the 
Sixth  Cavalry,  at  Thomas.  He  came  in  a  hurry  out 
of  the  adjutant's  office. 

"  All  ready,"  he  barked,  to  the  junior  lieutenant,  his 
second  in  command,  and  swung  into  the  saddle. 

"  '  Ten-shun!    Column — march!    Trot!  " 

The  bugle  sounded  briskly,  and  away  they  went,  in 
long  column,  the  red  and  white  guidons  flapping,  Micky 
and  his  scouts  galloping  to  the  advance. 

Jimmie  proceeded  to  have  his  arm  bandaged,  and 
to  talk  with  the  operator.  Then  he  reported  at  head- 
quarters, but  he  had  little  to  tell  that  was  not  already 
known.  He  felt,  though,  that  he  had  done  his  duty. 

While  his  shoulder  was  healing,  the  troops  of 
Arizona  and  New  Mexico  struck  the  hostiles  several 
times,  down  at  the  border,  but  did  not  turn  them. 


XX 


THE  GRAY  FOX  RETURNS 

"  CROOK  is  coming  back !  General  Crook  is  coming 
back!" 

That  was  the  word  at  Camp  Thomas,  in  this  the 
early  summer  of  1882,  a  couple  of  months  after  the 
Geronimo  outbreak. 

The  Third  Cavalry  already  had  arrived  from  its 
northern  plains  campaigns,  and  the  Sixth  was  being 
stationed  over  in  New  Mexico.  But  the  Sixth  had 
done  well,  and  the  best  news  was  that  which  bore  the 
name  of  Crook.  He  had  been  ordered  from  the  De- 
partment of  the  Platte  to  the  Department  of  Arizona, 
again. 

"  Now  we  shall  see  the  Chiricahua  grow  tired," 
laughed  Micky  Free,  when  Jimmie  met  him.  "  Sibi 
is  glad ;  the  White  Mountains  are  glad ;  everybody  will 
be  glad,  except  Whoa  and  Geronimo.  Are  you  going 
to  help  fight,  Cheemie,  instead  of  riding  all  the  time 
along  the  talking  wire?  " 

"  You  bet  I  am,  Micky/'  declared  Jimmie.  "  Hope 
Tom  Moore's  coming,  too.  I  reckon  if  my  leg  won't 
let  me  scout  I  can  join  the  pack-train." 

General  Crook  wasted  no  time.  Scarcely  had  he 
announced  himself  at  Fort  Whipple,  ere  he  was  bound 
for  San  Carlos  and  Fort  Apache,  to  straighten  out 
these  affairs  first. 

Jimmie  rode  over  to  the  fort  with  a  party  from 

221 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

Thomas,  to  learn  the  latest.  The  general  was  there, 
wkh  Lieutenant  Bourke,  now  a  captain.  Wearing  an 
ancient,  smoked  and  scorched  corduroy  suit  he  had 
arrived  on  the  same  "Apache,"  his  mule.  He  looked 
rather  older  than  when  he  had  left,  back  in  1875. 
The  campaigning  in  winter  up  north  had  been  tough. 
But  he  acted  as  energetic  as  ever. 

He  held  a  council  with  the  dissatisfied  White 
Mountains. 

"  I  want  to  have  all  that  you  say  here  go  down 
on  paper,"  he  addressed.  "  What  goes  down  on  paper 
never  lies.  A  man's  memory  may  fail  him,  but  the 
paper  does  not  forget.  I  want  to  know  from  you  all 
that  has  happened  since  I  went  away,  to  bring  about 
this  trouble  between  you  and  the  white  men.  I  want 
you  to  tell  the  truth  without  fear,  and  in  few  words." 

Old  Pedro  had  listened  attentively  to  the  general 
through  an  ear-trumpet,  for  Pedro  had  grown  quite 
deaf.  He  answered. 

"  When  you  were  here,  if  you  said  a  thing  we  knew 
that  it  was  true.  We  cannot  understand  why  you  left 
us.  The  people  who  have  come  among  us  talk  in  one 
way  and  act  in  another.  And  I  remember  the  other 
officers,  too,  who  treated  us  kindly.  I  used  to  be 
happy;  now  I  am  all  the  time  thinking  and  crying,  and 
I  say : '  Where  is  old  Colonel  John  Green,  and  Randall, 
and  those  other  good  men  ?' ' 

Alchise  spoke. 

"When  you  left  us,  there  were  no  bad  Indians 
but.  Everything  was  peace.  But  I  think  that  all  the 
good  men  must  have  been  taken  from  us  and  only 


THE  GRAY  FOX  RETURNS 

bad  ones  sent  in.  We  did  not  mind  having  no  rations, 
for  we  had  learned  to  take  care  of  ourselves.  Then 
one  day  we  were  ordered  to  give  up  our  fields  and  go 
down  to  the  hot  land  of  San  Carlos  to  live.  I  have 
tried  hard  to  help  the  whites,  and  they  have  put  me 
in  the  guard-house.  Where  did  you  go?  Why  doesn't 
Major  Randall  come  back?  Where  is  my  friend  Ran- 
dall, the  captain  with  the  big  moustache  that  he  always 
pulled?" 

The  general  was  very  patient  with  all  who  wished 
to  talk.  Then  he  took  a  pack-train  and  rode  into  the 
depths  of  the  Black  Canyon,  where  a  number  of  the 
Apaches  lived  because  they  feared  arrest. 

The  Apaches  here,  also,  claimed  that  they  had  been 
mistreated.  They  had  set  a  spy  to  watch  the  agent 
at  San  Carlos,  and  had  caught  him  selling  their  rations. 
Then  they  had  sent  a  man  to  tell  the  agent  that  he  must 
not  do  this,  and  the  man  had  been  kept  in  jail  for  six 
months  without  any  trial.  They  said  that  they  had 
been  getting  only  one  cup  of  flour  every  seven  days. 
One  shoulder  of  a  little  cow  had  to  last  twenty  persons 
for  a  week. 

It  was  another  long  story,  and  the  general  promised 
that  he  would  help  them. 

"  I  think  there  will  be  peace  at  Fort  Apache  and 
at  the  San  Carlos,"  Micky  asserted,  as  he  and  Jimmie 
rode  back  after  the  council  was  over.  "  And  if  the 
Chiricahua  will  stay  in  Mexico  and  kill  only  Mexicans, 
you  and  I  will  have  no  fun,  because  the  Gray  Fox 
cannot  make  war  in  Mexico." 

"  Maybe  the  Chiricahua  will  stay  there." 

223 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"  No.  After  a  time  the  young  men  will  get  tired 
of  killing  and  robbing  Mexicans,  which  is  easy.  They 
will  want  to  win  honor  by  robbing  the  Americans — and 
then,  we  shall  see." 

At  Camp  Thomas  Jimmie  met  the  general  face  to 
face  while  crossing  the  parade-ground.  He  had  small 
hopes  that  the  general  would  remember  him  when  he 
saluted — but  something  in  the  general's  keen,  inquiring 
eye  made  him  halt  and  stand  expectantly. 

"  Well,  my  man,"  blurted  the  general.  "  I  seem  to 
know  your  face." 

"  Yes,  sir.     I'm  Jimmie  Dunn." 

"  I  remember.  You  still  limp  a  little,  I  see.  What 
are  you  doing  now?  " 

"  I'm  a  telegraph  line-man,  sir." 

"  That' s  good.  You  had  a  talk  with  Nah-che,  when 
he  was  on  his  way  out,  last  spring,  didn't  you?  Do 
you  think  he  can  be  persuaded  to  come  in  peaceably?  " 

"  He  might  if  he  knew  you  were  back,  sir.  But  he 
said  the  Chiricahua  hadn't  been  treated  well — they  were 
out  to  stay." 

"  The  Apaches  have  grievances.  The  worst  of  the 
outlaws  are  better  than  the  whites  who  have  been 
robbing  them." 

The  general  was  about  to  stride  on,  when  Jimmie 
hastily  spoke. 

"  But  if  you  go  against  the  Chiricahua,  I'd  like 
to  go  too,  sir." 

"  That  will  be  a  hard  and  maybe  a  long  chase," 
gravely  said  the  general.  "  Probably  into  the  Mexican 
mountains,  with  picked  men.  You  can  help  by  sticking 

224 


THE  GRAY  FOX  RETURNS 

to  your  present  business.  The  telegraph  and  the  rail- 
road are  very  necessary." 

Jimmie,  thinking  it  over  afterward,  almost  decided 
likewise.  His  leg  bothered  him,  and  his  shoulder  was 
still  tender.  Chasing  Geronimo  through  the  Mexican 
mountains,  with  a  leader  who  never  rested,  required 
nerve  and  strength  both. 

The  general  tried  to  hold  a  conference  with  the 
Geronimo  runaways.  From  the  border  he  sent  a  party 
of  Apache  scouts  under  Alchise  across,  for  a  few  miles, 
but  they  found  no  traces  of  the  Chiricahuas. 

Two  Chiricahua  squaws  were  captured  while  re- 
turning to  San  Carlos.  They  said  that  the  Geronimo 
band  had  a  strong  hiding-place  deep  in  the  Sierra 
Madre  Mountains  several  days'  travel  below  the  bor- 
der; were  living  off  the  Mexicans,  and  knew  that  the 
American  soldiers  could  not  come  down  there. 

General  Crook  assigned  Captain  Emmet  Crawford 
of  the  Third  Cavalry  (a  broad-shouldered  six-footer) 
to  the  military  station  at  San  Carlos,  obtained  permis- 
sion from  the  Indian  Bureau  for  the  White  Mountains 
to  live  upon  the  high,  cooler  lands  near  Fort  Apache 
and  to  plant  crops  there,  and  from  headquarters  at 
Fort  Whipple  issued  an  order  that  said : 

Officers  and  soldiers  serving  in  this  department  are  reminded 
that  one  of  the  fundamental  principles  of  the  military  character 
is  justice  to  all — Indians  as  well  as  white  men — and  that  a  dis- 
regard of  this  principle  is  likely  to  bring  about  hostilities,  and 
cause  the  death  of  the  very  persons  they  are  sent  here  to  protect. 
In  all  their  dealings  with  the  Indians,  officers  must  be  careful 
not  only  to  observe  the  strictest  fidelity,  but  to  make  no  promises 
not  in  their  power  to  carry  out;  .  .  . 
15  225 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

As  long  as  the  Chiricahuas  stayed  out  of  the  United 
States,  there  was  not  much  more  to  be  done.  The 
Apaches  on  the  reservations  seemed  content  again; 
the  border  was  being  patrolled  by  one  hundred  and 
fifty  Apache  scouts,  in  the  hope  of  catching  the  trail 
of  any  outlaws  who  might  venture  up;  the  telegraph 
was  kept  in  fine  working  order,  and  the  troops  at  the 
posts  were  given  constant  practice  marches. 

This  fall  and  winter  no  word  came  from  Geronimo. 
But  in  March  (which  was  the  year  1883)  the  expected 
news  broke — and  bad  news  it  was. 

Jimmie  chanced  to  be  in  the  telegraph  office  at 
Thomas  when  the  message  came.  He  took  it  off  the 
wire  as  fast  as  the  operator  did.  It  was  from  Bowie, 
in  the  south. 

"  Band  of  hostiles  crossed  line  raiding  north 
through  Whetstone  Mountains.  Heading  west  for 
New  Mexico  probably.  More/' 

"  Where's  that  adjutant  ?  "  barked  the  operator, 
tearing  off  his  sheet.  "  Things  are  hummin'.  Gee 
whizz,  isn't  that  man  ever  around  when  he's  needed  ?  " 

But  the  adjutant  of  course  got  the  message  at  once. 

"  More  "  came  thick  and  fast,  from  all  directions. 
The  Chiricahuas  numbered  only  twenty-six  warriors. 
They  were  under  Chato,  the  Flat-nose.  They  had 
dodged  the  patrol,  outwitted  all  the  troops  and  volun- 
teers, the  telegraph  and  railroad  did  not  stop  them ;  on 
a  circle  of  eight  hundred  miles,  traveling  at  seventy- 
five  miles  a  day  they  swung  through  Arizona  and 
southwestern  New  Mexico,  stealing  fresh  horses  when- 
ever needed,  and  killing  miners  and  settlers. 


THE  GRAY  FOX  RETURNS 

"  Picked  men  for  the  pursuit,"  were  the  orders  from 
the  general  at  Whipple.  This  appeared  to  leave 
Jimmie,  with  his  lame  leg,  out  of  scout  service.  Well, 
he  might  do  some  good  in  his  regular  job,  anyway. 
But  the  last  news  was  the  worst  news  of  all. 

Near  Silver  City,  southwestern  New  Mexico,  a 
horrible  act  was  committed  by  the  Chato  band.  They 
overtook  Judge  H.  C.  McComas,  driving  on  the  main 
road  with  his  wife  and  little  boy,  Charley;  they  tor- 
tured and  killed  the  two  grown-ups,  and  carried  off 
Charley,  aged  six  years. 

This  made  soldiers  and  settlers  alike  furious. 
Jimmie  could  stand  the  strain  no  longer.  He  had 
been  captured,  once,  himself.  He  threw  aside  his  line- 
man position  and  rode  over  to  Fort  Apache,  to  find 
Frank  Monach,  pack-master. 

"  I  want  a  job,  Frank." 

"  Thought  you  had  one." 

"  I  had,  but  I've  left.  I'm  too  lame  for  scout 
work ;  I  can  pack,  though.  How  about  it  ?  " 

"  Well,"  drawled  Frank,  sizing  him  up,  "  the  old 
man's  partic'lar.  The  pack  outfits  have  got  to  be  the 
kind  that'll  keep  agoin'.  We're  due  to  follow  those 
bronc's  till  we  get  that  boy  back,  even  if  we  travel  clear 
to  the  City  of  Mexico." 

"  I  know.  That's  why  I'm  here,"  retorted  Jimmie. 
"  I  can  pack  and  sit  a  mule." 

"All  right.  Old  Jack  Long's  watchin'  you,  I 
reckon.  He  took  a  lot  o'  stock  in  you.  You're  hired. 
So  get  your  war-bag  an'  fall  in." 


227 


XXI 

TO  THE  STRONGHOLD  OF  GERONIMO 

"  FIGHT  to  a  finish,  or  a  surrender,  b'  gosh,'5  an- 
nounced Frank,  to-day.  "  Chiricahuas  can  take  their 
choice.  But  the  old  man's  goin'  after  'em.  We'll 
have  no  murderin'  an'  boy-stealin'  in  this  department. 
Everybody,  man  an'  mule,  is  ordered  to  meet  him  at 
Wtllcox,  pronto  (quick).  So  this  outfit'll  hit  the  high 
places  in  the  mornin'." 

Jimmie  and  the  other  packers  at  San  Carlos,  where 
they  had  been  waiting  prepared,  gave  a  cheer.  It  was 
now  the  first  week  in  April.  The  killing  of  Judge 
McComas  and  Mrs.  McComas,  and  the  stealing  of  little 
Charley,  had  occurred  on  March  28.  Chato  had 
escaped  into  Mexico  again,  having  lost  only  one 
warrior,  except 

"  Did  you  hear  tell  thar's  a  Chiricahua  buck  been 
fetched  in  who  claims  he  broke  from  the  Chato  bunch 
'  cause  «he  wants  peace?  "  queried  Long  Jim  Cook. 

"No.    Where  is  he?" 

"  In  the  guard-house.  They  got  him  locked  up 
till  the  old  man  talks  with  him.  His  name  is 
'  Peaches/  or  somethin'  like  that." 

"  Mebbe  he  brings  some  sort  o'  word  from  Geron- 
imo.  You  know  the  old  man  sent  one  of  those  squaws 
that  he  captured,  back  down,  last  fall,  to  tell  the 
Geronimo  band  they'd  better  change  their  minds." 

Jimmie  asked  Micky  Free. 

228 


TO  THE  STRONGHOLD  OF  GERONIMO 

"  He  is  not  a  Chiricahua,"  said  Micky.  "  He  is  a 
White  Mountain,  but  he  married  two  Chiricahua 
squaws,  so  he  had  to  live  with  the  Chiricahua.  His 
name  is  Pa-na-yo-tish-n  (Coyote-saw-him).  He  does 
not  like  the  Chiricahua,  now.  They  are  living  in  the 
mountains  five  days'  travel  from  Arizona.  They  have 
plenty  wood,  plenty  water,  plenty  grass,  plenty  meat, 
and  kill  plenty  Mexican  soldiers  with  rocks  because  they 
must  save  cartridges.  That  is  why  Chato  made  his 
raid  up  north :  to  get  cartridges.  Pa-na-yo-tish-n  ran 
away.  He  says  he  does  not  want  to  fight,  and  there  are 
others  who  do  not  want  to  fight,  but  they  are  afraid 
of  Geronimo.  He  knows  the  trail  to  Geronimo,  and 
will  lead  the  general  straight.  Then  maybe  we  talk, 
maybe  we  fight.  It  will  be  a  good  fight,  Cheemie. 
Geronimo  has  seventy  men,  and  fifty  big  boys  who  can 
fight  like  men.  Yes,  if  they  have  powder,  and  do  not 
get  starved,  and  the  talk  is  bad,  we  will  see  much  fun. 
I  think  that  even  the  packers  will  better  watch  out 
sharp." 

Micky  Free  always  had  hopes.  He  was  a  regular 
fire-eater. 

The  cavalry  from  Fort  Apache,  and  the  pack-train, 
and  about  one  hundred  Apache  scouts  from  the  San 
Carlos  and  the  White  Mountain  reservations  marched 
across  country  to  Willcox.  Pa-na-yo-tish-n  (whom 
the  soldiers  and  packers  called  "  Peaches  ")  was  taken 
along,  as  a  prisoner,  in  handcuffs. 

Willcox,  the  nearest  station  on  the  Southern  Pacific 
Railroad,  just  west  of  Railroad  Pass  over  the  Chirica- 
hua Mountains,  was  overflowing. 

229 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

The  Camp  Thomas  troops  had  arrived ;  so  had  those 
from  Fort  Bowie,  to  the  southeast.  By  train  other 
troops,  and  horses  and  mules,  and  ammunition  and 
supplies  of  all  kinds  were  pouring  in.  The  general 
and  his  staff  were  here.  So  were  Charley  Hopkins  and 
"  Short  Jim  "  Cook  and  others  of  the  old-time  packers ; 
and  Archie  Macintosh  and  Al  Sieber,  the  chief  scouts ; 
and  Antonio  Besias  the  interpreter;  yes,  and  Maria 
Jilda. 

It  was  a  great  reunion  of  Crook  men. 

Reports  said  that  the  United  States  and  Mexico 
had  arranged  to  pursue  Indians  into  each  other's  terri- 
tory, but  the  United  States  troops  were  not  to  cross 
the  boundary  before  May  i.  In  order  to  make  certain 
that  this  was  understood,  the  general  traveled  by 
the  Mexican  Central  Railroad  into  the  northern  Mex- 
ican States  and  talked  with  the  commanding  officers 
there. 

When  he  returned  he  talked  again  with  "  Peaches." 
"  Peaches  "  stuck  to  his  story,  and  when  the  general 
directed  that  the  irons  be  removed  from  him, 
"  Peaches  "  said  that  he  was  willing  to  wear  them  until 
at  was  shown  that  he  had  spoken  only  the  truth.  But 
the  irons  were  taken  off  anyway,  because  Alchise  and 
other  scouts  engaged  to  watch  him  very  closely. 

On  April  22  there  was  a  parade,  and  inspection  of 
the  whole  outfit.  That  night  the  Apache  scouts  held 
a  big  war-dance  which  lasted  until  morning.  They  and 
Micky  (who  had  danced  as  hard  as  anybody)  were  still 
hot  and  excited  when  the  column  was  formed  for  the 
advance. 

The  scouts,  and  pack-mules,  and  a  line  of  rumbling 

230 


TO  THE  STRONGHOLD  OF  GERONIMO 

army  wagons,  and  portions  of  seven  companies  of  the 
Third  and  Sixth  Cavalry,  marched  from  the  railroad 
to  the  boundary  at  San  Bernardino  Springs  in  south- 
eastern Arizona,  one  hundred  miles  by  the  wagon  trail. 

Stalwart  Captain  Emmet  Crawford  brought  in  one 
hundred  more  Apache  scouts  from  San  Carlos.  There 
were  war-dances  and  medicine  ceremonies  each  night. 
Alchise  and  others  told  the  general  that  their  medicine 
was  showing  up  very  strong;  the  Chiricahuas  would 
surely  be  found  and  killed  or  captured. 

"  That  is  so/5  asserted  Micky,  who  believed  in  the 
medicine. 

Six  of  the  cavalry  troops  were  to  be  left  here  at 
the  border,  to  guard  it  and  the  wagons  with  the  extra 
supplies. 

"  Adios,  amigo,"  bade  Maria,  to  Jimmie.  "  You 
will  have  good  luck.  The  medicine  says  so,  and  Pa-na- 
yo-tish-n  will  lead  Crook  straight.  But  it  will  be  a 
long  march,  maybe  two  hundred  miles." 

"  Aren't  you  going,  Maria  ?  " 

"  No.    I  stay,  because  I  know  all  this  country." 

It  did  not  look  like  a  very  great  force,  after  all, 
which  at  sunrise  of  May  i,  this  1883,  crossed  the  border 
to  find  Geronimo.  There  were  more  Indians  than  sol- 
diers— one  hundred  and  ninety-three  of  them,  White 
Mountains,  Tontos,  Yavapais,  Apache- Yumas  and 
some  of  the  Taza  friendly  Chiricahuas. 

Captain  Crawford,  of  the  Third  Cavalry,  com- 
manded them.  He  had  as  his  assistants  Lieutenant 
George  Gatewood  and  Lieutenant  W.  W.  Forsythe,  of 
the  Sixth,  and  Lieutenant  James  O.  Mackay,  of  the 
Third. 

231 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

The  forty  cavalrymen  of  the  Sixth  (less  than  half 
a  company)  were  commanded  by  Major  Adna  R. 
Chaffee  and  Lieutenant  Frank  West. 

The  general's  staff  was  Captain  Bourke,  and  Lieu- 
tenant G.  J.  Febiger  of  the  Engineers.  Doctor 
Andrews  was  surgeon.  Archie  Macintosh  and  Al 
Sieber  were  chief  scouts.  Micky,  and  old  Severiano 
the  Mexican  who  had  been  brought  up  by  the  Apaches, 
and  Packer  Sam  Bowman  were  interpreters. 

The  pack-masters  of  the  .five  pack-trains  were 
Frank  Monach,  Charley  Hopkins,  of  Tucson,  "  Long 
Jim "  Cook  and  "  Short  Jim "  Cook,  and  George 
Stanfield. 

"  One  blanket  and  forty  rounds  of  ammunition  to 
each  man,"  were  the  orders.  The  mules  carried  addi- 
tional ammunition  and  sixty  days'  rations  of  hard-tack, 
coffee  and  bacon.  Everybody  was  well  armed  with  the 
Springfield  forty-fives,  and  Colt's  revolvers;  even  the 
packers  had  carbines  and  pistols. 

Plainly  enough,  the  general  was  outward  bound  on 
business ! 

"  U-ga-she  (U-gah-shay)  !"  barked  Lieutenant 
Gatewood,  at  the  scouts.  And  away  they  went,  afoot, 
in  their  red  head-bands  and  flapping  shirts  and  leggin- 
moccasins,  across  the  boundary,  with  Alchise  and 
"  Peaches  "  in  the  lead,  as  guides.  They  all  spread 
out  in  a  broad  front,  to  cover  the  country.  Their  offi- 
cers rode  just  behind,  with  Archie  Macintosh  and 
Sieber  the  Iron  Man. 

The  general  and  aides  and  cavalry  escort  followed. 
Then  there  ambled  the  long  files  of  pack-trains — 

232 


TO  THE  STRONGHOLD  OF  GERONIMO 

Frank  Monach's  first.  A  guard  of  the  cavalry  closed 
the  rear. 

The  "  good-by  "  and  "  good  luck  "  cheers  of  the 
border  guard  died  in  the  distance.  The  march  to 
"  get "  Geronimo,  Nah-che  and  the  other  Chiricahuas 
had  actually  begun. 

At  first  about  twenty-five  miles  a  day  were  covered. 
But  the  country  grew  rougher  and  hotter.  Only  two  or 
three  of  the  Mexican  villages  were  inhabited;  many 
others  were  deserted  and  in  ruins,  on  account  of  the 
Chiricahuas.  The  brush  along  the  streams  was  thick, 
the  flowers  were  large  and  bright.  High,  bluish  moun- 
tains loomed  on  right  and  left  and  before. 

It  was  fine  Apache  country,  all  right — and 
"  Peaches  "  was  leading  straight  into  it,  for  within 
a  few  days  fresh  moccasin  tracks  might  be  seen 
frequently. 

"  To-morrow  for  the  Sierra  Madre,"  said  Frank 
Monach,  in  camp  on  the  night  of  May  7.  "  Then 
we'll  be  hangin'  on  by  our  toe-nails.  What  I'd  like  to 
know  is,  whether  Geronimo'll  wait  for  us  or  whether 
he'll  keep  a-goin'  himself." 

The  huge  jumble  of  the  Sierra  Madre  range 
frowned  directly  before.  It  certainly  appeared  mighty 
rough.  No  white  men  had  yet  ventured  to  penetrate 
far  into  the  Sierra  Madre ;  but  the  general  was  deter- 
mined, as  Al  Sieber  said,  "  to  open  it  up." 

He  was  so  anxious,  that  this  night  the  march  had 
continued  until  after  eleven  o'clock,  and  camp  had 
been  made  without  fires,  in  the  bottom  of  a  deep  canyon. 
So  dark  it  was  that  even  the  mules  lost  their  places. 

233 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

The  climb  of  the  first  flanks  of  the  Sierra  Madre 
was  begun  at  daylight.  The  trail  that  led  out  of  the 
canyon  was  littered  with  plunder — torn  letters,  Mexi- 
can dresses,  scattered  flour,  and  beef  carcasses.  It  was 
s«  steep  that  several  of  the  mules  fell  off,  and  landed 
one  hundred  feet  below,  in  a  canyon.  But  they  were 
not  hurt. 

The  Chiricahua  sign  became  more  plentiful. 
"  Peaches  "  said  that  Geronimo's  real  stronghold  was 
still  several  days'  march  before,  but  that  this  was  as 
far  as  the  Mexican  soldiers  ever  had  got.  The  Chirica- 
huas  had  ambushed  them  and  driven  them  back. 

To-night  everybody  except  the  scouts  was  very 
tired.  Jimmie  ached  from  head  to  foot;  the  job  of 
forcing  the  mules  on  was  the  hardest  work  of  all. 

"  Come,  Cheemie,"  invited  Micky.  "  You  come 
with  me  and  you  will  see  big  medicine  made." 

Jimmie  groaned,  and  hobbled  after  Micky  Free. 

What  with  chasing  deer  and  turkeys  and  rabbits, 
to  eat,  and  hunting  the  Chiricahuas,  the  scouts  had  been 
having  a  great  time.  They  had  never  been  too  tired  to 
dance  and  yarn;  to-night  their  medicine-men  were  to 
find  the  Chiricahuas  for  them. 

The  officers  messed  with  the  packers  and  scouts; 
it  was  all  one  family.  The  general  and  Captain  Bourke 
had  joined  the  Monach  mess,  where  Alchise  and  other 
principal  scouts  ate,  too.  So  the  general  and  the  cap- 
tain were  admitted  to  the  circle  of  the  medicine-making. 

The  chief  medicine-man  lay  in  a  trance  while  the 
lesser  medicine-men  squatted  around  him  and  sang. 
S©on  he  thumped  his  chest  and  spoke,  telling  his  dream. 

234 


TO  THE  STRONGHOLD  OF  GERONIMO 

"  Keet,"  the  Apache  boy  who  carried  the  medicine 
things  and  was  in  training  for  a  medicine-man,  him- 
self, translated  for  the  general  and  Captain  Bourke. 

"What  did  he  say?"  asked  the  captain.  "The 
general  wishes  to  know.'* 

"He  say:  'Me  can't  see  'urn  Chilicahua  yet. 
Bimeby  me  see  'urn.  Me  ketch  'urn,  me  kill  'urn.  Me 
no  ketch  'um,  me  no  kill  'um.  Chilicahua  see  me,  me 
no  get  'um.  No  see  me,  me  ketch  'um.  Me  see  'um 
little  bit  now.  Mebbe  so  six  day  me  ketch  'um ;  mebbe 
so  two  day.  Tomollow  me  send  twenty-fibe  men  to 
hunt  'um  tlail.  Mebbe  so  tomollow  see  'um  more.  Me 
ketch'  'um  hoss,  me  ketch  'um  mool,  me  ketch  'um  cow. 
Ketch  Chilicahua  pretty  soon,  bimeby.  Kill  'um  heap, 
an'  ketch  'um  squaw." 

That  impressed  the  scouts.  They  were  sure  of 
success. 

The  signs  grew  fresher  and  fresher,  and  the  trail 
worse  and  worse.  But  abandoned  rancherias  were 
found — and  they  had  not  been  abandoned  long,  either ! 
The  eager  scouts  fairly  ran  hither-thither,  searching 
and  signaling;  the  cavalry-men  toiled  afoot,  leading 
their  horses ;  and  the  pack-mules,  urged  on  by  Jimmie 
and  the  other  packers,  coughed  and  slipped  and  sweat, 
and  six  of  them  rolled  a  thousand  feet  and  were  dashed 
to  pieces. 

But  the  general  showed  no  token  of  quitting.  He 
was  after  Gerommo. 

Now  it  was  the  night  of  May  10.  In  the  morning 
Captain  Crawford  and  his  scouts  were  going  ahead, 
by  themselves.  Alchise  had  insisted  that  this  was  the 

235 


'   GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

only  way  to  do.  He  complained  to  the  general  that  the 
soldiers  and  the  pack-trains  were  too  slow,  to  catch 
the  Chiricahuas. 

Frank  Monach  came  into  camp  from  a  reconnoiter 
with  a  few  of  the  soldiers  and  the  huskier  packers. 
Jimmie  could  not  go.  His  leg  was  rather  bad. 

"  B'  gosh,  we  found  where  a  passel  o'  Mexicans 
had  been  wiped  out  with  rocks  an'  arrows  an'  lances," 
announced  Frank.  "  Over  yonder  in  the  foothills. 
They  must  have  come  in  from  the  other  side." 

This  night  the  scouts  were  very  busy,  making 
medicine  and  mending  moccasins  and  preparing  meat 
and  bread. 

"  Medicine  man  say  '  Kill  'urn  heap  Chilicahua, 
three  day  from  tomollow/  "  declared  young  "  Keet," 
proud  of  his  English  words. 

Early  in  the  morning  one  hundred  and  fifty  of  the 
scouts,  with  Captain  Crawford  and  Lieutenant  Gate- 
wood  and  Lieutenant  Mackay,  Archie  Macintosh,  Al 
Sieber,  and  Micky  and  Severiano  and  Sam  Bowman, 
hastened  ahead. 

They  were  to  fight  and  to  surround,  and  try  to 
hold  the  Chiricahuas  until  the  soldiers  arrived.  The 
dismounted  cavalry  and  the  pack-trains  followed  at 
best  speed,  again  into  the  heart  of  the  high  country. 


XXII 

WAR  OR  PEACE? 

DURING  the  next  few  days  Captain  Crawford  sent 
back  several  notes,  to  say  that  by  the  signs  he  was 
likely  to  strike  the  Chiricahuas  at  any  moment.  The 
pursuit  was  closing  in.  Maybe  the  medicine-men  were 
right.  They  had  prophesied  "'Three  days  from  to- 
morrow," which  would  be  May  14. 

But  May  14  passed  without  especial  event.  Then, 
at  one  o'clock  noon  of  May  15,  in  a  little  box  canyon 
there  was  sudden  excitement  among  the  cavalry  ahead 
of  the  Monach  pack-train.  Jimmie,  first  in  line  at  one 
side  behind  the  "  bell,"  saw  the  Indian  runner  dart 
down  the  slope,  into  the  trail,  and  hand  a  note  to  the 
general. 

The  general  read  it.  Lieutenant  Febiger  hastened 
back  to  Major  Chaff ee,  and  instantly  the  trumpet 
pealed  "  Mount ! "  Into  their  saddles  vaulted  the 
troopers.  Down  to  the  pack-trains  galloped  Lieutenant 
West. 

"  Close  up  your  outfits !"  he  shouted.  "  Be  pre- 
pared for  action.  Crawford's  scouts  have  struck  the 
hostiles." 

"  Hooray ! "  That  was  good  news.  Afterwards 
it  was  learned  that  the  foremost  scouts  had  discovered 
some  Chiricahuas  in  a  canyon,  had  fired  upon  two  men 
and  a  woman,  and  had  frightened  the  rest  away.  The 
runner  had  brought  the  note  six  miles  across  the  moun- 
tains in  less  than  an  hour. 

337 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"  Listen  to  that ! "  yelped  Martin,  the  cook,  from 
the  "  bell." 

Distant  rifle-shots  sounded  faintly.  It  was  a 
battle !  Captain  Crawford's  scouts  and  the  Chiricahuas 
were  fighting ! 

The  reports  welled  faster.  Every  ear  was  keen  set. 
Major  ChafTee's  cavalry  had  quickened  pace,  each 
trooper  erect  in  his  saddle ;  the  pack-mules  were  being 
forced  more  compactly,  ready  for  corralling  should  the 
cavalry  leave;  the  general,  in  the  advance  with  his 
aides,  clearly  was  impatient  for  the  country  to  open 
out  and  the  battle-field  be  sighted. 

"  Bet  they  got  away,  dog-gone  it !  "  yelled  back 
Cook  Martin.  For  presently  the  firing  dwindled  to 
spatters,  and  ceased.  Shucks! 

"  Anyhow,  the  old  man'll  keep  agoin',"  voiced  the 
packer  behind  Jimmie.  ''  There's  a  nice  moon  for 
huntin'  Injuns,  an'  we  can  live  on  what  those  bronc's 
are  throwin'  away !  " 

So  it  was  plod,  plod,  up  and  down,  and  down  and 
up.  The  troopers  dismounted,  to  lead  their  horses. 

Toward  dusk  a  great  smoke  was  to  be  seen  sev- 
eral miles  away,  on  a  high  mountain-side.  The  pack- 
train  guessed  that  a  Chiricahua  rancheria  was  being 
cleaned  up. 

The  horizon  over  there  flared  into  red,  and  while 
supper  was  being  eaten,  in  camp  under  a  glorious  full 
moon,  here  came  Captain  Crawford  and  his  scouts  at 
at  last,  both  afoot  and  ahorse.  They  brought  also 
forty-seven  horses  loaded  with  plunder,  and  five  pris- 
oners^— two  boys,  two  girls,  and  a  woman. 

£38 


WAR  OR  PEACE? 

Alchise  acted  rather  disgusted,  but  Micky  Free  was 
joyful. 

"  Hello,  Cheemie,"  he  greeted,  as  he  and  others 
of  the  scouts  squatted  near  the  camp-fires,  to  eat  again. 
"  We  had  good  fun.  It  was  Chato's  and  Bonito's 
rancherias.  Alchise  and  Sibi  are  mad  because  we  shot 
too  soon,  and  the  Chiricahua  ran  off.  We  killed  nine 
and  captured  those  five.  We  didn't  catch  any  more. 
The  country  was  very  rough,  and  they  hid.  But  we  set 
the  rancherias  on  fire.  There  were  thirty  houses.  And 
to-morrow  we  get  more  Chiricahua." 

"  Wasn't  the  little  white  boy  there,  Micky?  " 

"  Yes,  he  was  there,  the  squaw  says.  His  name 
Carlos  (Charles)  ;  six  years  old.  He  was  with  some 
old  squaws  and  they  ran  off  with  him.  But  she  says 
she  can  find  them  in  two  days.  Loco  and  Chihuahua 
want  to  come  back  to  the  reservation ;  maybe  Geronimo 
and  Chato  and  Nah-che;  Whoa  still  thinks  bad." 

"Where  is  Geronimo?"  asked  Frank  Monach,  in 
Spanish. 

"  Nearly  all  the  Chiricahua  men  are  down  in  the 
south,  hunting  Mexicans.  They  will  be  surprised  when 
they  know  the  Cluke  men  have  found  where  they  live, 
and  that  Pa-na-yo-tish-n  had  led  us  so  straight.  We 
now  are  inside  and  they  are  outside.  Inju !  " 

Everybody  was  much  disappointed  that  little 
Charley  McComas  had  disappeared.  If  some  of  the 
younger  scouts  had  not  shot  first  without  orders  the 
rancherias  might  have  been  surrounded  and  Charley 
rescued. 

However,  the  captured  squaw  seemed  to  be  certain 

239 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

that  she  could  find  the  older  squaws  who  had  him. 
Early  in  the  morning  she  was  sent  away,  with  one  of 
the  boy  prisoners  and  two  days'  rations.  She  promised 
she  would  tell  the  Chiricahuas  it  was  no  use  to  fight. 

This  was  a  cold,  rainy  day,  which  made  the  waiting 
disagreeable.  At  night  ice  formed.  In  the  morning  a 
smoke  signal  was  seen.  The  general  ordered  that  it  be 
answered.  "  Peaches  "  guided  to  a  better  camping- 
place,  where  there  were  grass  and  running  water. 

Another  smoke  signal  was  sent  up,  but  only  a  few 
squaws  and  children  came  in.  The  squaws  said  that 
some  other  squaws  had  Charley  McComas.  One  of 
the  women  was  the  sister  of  Chief  Chihuahua  (or 
Bonito).  She  stated  that  all  the  Chihuahua  band 
would  surrender  as  soon  as  her  brother  could  get  them 
together. 

"  The  idee  of  the  gen'ral  is,  not  to  do  any  more 
fightin',  if  he  can  help  it,  till  that  white  kid  is  fetched 
along,"  explained  Martin,  the  cook  for  the  Monach 
pack-train  and  officers'  mess.  "  That's  what  Cap'n 
Bourke  says.  You  see,  the  leetle  fellow's  with  the 
Chihuahua  band." 

The  next  day  Chihuahua  (Bonito)  himself  came 
boldly  in,  to  say  that  he  would  surrender  his  people 
as  soon  as  he  could  get  word  to  them  all.  They  were 
tired  of  fighting  and  hiding. 

"  That  is  good,"  answered  the  general.  "  I  have 
soldiers  and  scouts  enough  to  fight  the  Chiricahuas  as 
long  as  they  wish  to  fight.  Those  I  do  not  kill  or 
capture  I  will  drive  into  the  Mexican  soldiers  who 
are  coming  up  from  the  south." 

240 


WAR  OR  PEACE? 

"  I  speak  only  for  my  own  band/'  answered  Chi- 
huahua. "  They  will  make  peace,  but  I  do  not  know 
what  Geronimo  and  Whoa  will  do.  If  you  will  let 
me  take  two  of  my  young  men  and  go  out  again,  I  can 
hurry  my  people  in  faster." 

"  They  must  bring  the  white  -boy." 

"  I  will  tell  them  so,"  said  Chihuahua. 

Chihuahua  did  good  work,  for  the  Chiricahuas 
kept  gathering  until  there  were  one  hundred  and 
twenty-one  in  camp.  But  they  had  not  brought 
Charley  McComas,  and  none  of  the  Geronimo  men 
had  turned  up. 

Then,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  a  tremen- 
dous outburst  of  shouts  and  screeches  sounded  from 
some  high  cliffs  above  the  camp.  More  Apaches  were 
jumping  about  among  the  rocks  there,  as  if  much 
astonished. 

"  Geronimo !  "  exclaimed  Micky,  running. 

The  camp  sprang  to  arms. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  were  yelling  the  Chirica- 
huas above,  to  the  Chiricahuas  below. 

"  The  white  war-captain  has  us.  We  fight  no 
more,"'  called  the  Chiricahuas  who  had  surrendered. 
"'It  is  no  use.  Our  own  people  fight  against  us." 

Two  old  squaws  clambered  half-way  down. 

"Ask  the  white  war-captain  if  we  will  be  hurt?  " 
they  screamed. 

The  general  sent  out  Micky  and  Scout  To-klani 
'(Plenty  Water)  and  one  of  the  Chihuahua  Chiricahuas. 
To-klani's  sisters  belonged  to  the  Chihuahua  band,  and 
the  Chiricahuas  all  knew  him. 

16  241 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"  The  white  war-captain  says  that  he  does  not  care 
whether  you  surrender  or  not,"  announced  To-klani. 
"  Chihuahua  has  surrendered.  We  are  only  waiting 
till  the  rest  of  his  people  and  the  little  white  boy  come 
in.  If  you  come  you  will  not  be  harmed,  but  if  you  do 
not  come  you  will  be  killed." 

This  set  the  Chiricahuas  on  the  cliff  to  thinking. 
Evidently  now  that  they  had  found  their  besf  camping- 
place  occupied,  and  so  many  of  the  other  Chiricahuas 
surrendered,  they  did  not  know  quite  what  to  do.  As 
Frank  Monach  remarked:  "  That's  a  heap  joke.  Ex- 
pect we  look  mighty  comfortable,  at  our  little  love- 
feast." 

Within  about  an  hour,  the  Apaches  came  down. 
It  was  Geronimo,  all  right — he,  and  Nah-che,  and 
Chato,  and  thirty-three  warriors.  They  all  carried 
the  latest  model  repeating  rifles,  and  the  best  nickle- 
plated  revolvers,  and  they  stared  about  very  uneasily. 

They  began  to  ask  questions  of  the  scouts ;  Nah-che 
sighted  Jimmie,  and  sidled  over  to  him. 

"  Chi-kis-n,"  he  said. 

"  Chi-kis-n,"  replied  Jimmie. 

"  The  last  time  I  saw  you  I  talked  straight,"  pro- 
ceeded Nah-che.  "  Now  I  ask  you  to  talk  straight,  for 
we  are  men.  I  want  to  know  how  you  came  in  here, 
with  so  many  soldiers  and  Apaches  and  mules,  while 
we  were  out  hunting  the  Mexicans.  What  does  Cluke 
intend  to  do?  " 

"  We  came  in  easily,  because  the  White  Mountain 
who  w&s  one  of  Chato's  men  showed  us  the  road.  But 
the  Gray  Fox  would  have  brought  us  anyway.  The 

242 


WAR  OR  PEACE? 

American  soldiers  can  hunt  Apaches  in  Mexico,  and  the 
Mexican  soldiers  can  hunt  Apaches  in  the  United 
States.  That  is  arranged.  If  Geronimo  will  not  sur- 
render, let  him  try  to  fight.  The  other  Chiricahuas 
are  going  back  to  the  reservation.  Geronimo  will  not 
last  long.  His  own  people  are  against  him,  and  he  can- 
not hide  any  more  in  Mexico." 

"  That  sounds  -bad/'  uttered  Nah-che;  and  he 
walked  away  very  downcast. 

The  general  was  saying  the  same  thing,  and  other 
things,  to  Geronimo. 

"  You  should  have  had  more  sense  than  to  leave 
because  of  a  few  troubles,"  he  scolded  severely.  "There 
is  always  some  trouble  in  a  big  camp  of  Indians.  I 
want  to  know  what  those  troubles  were,  so  that  I  may 
correct  them.  I  shall  not  talk  long  with  you;  you 
must  make  up  your  mind  for  peace  or  war.  You  can 
see  for  yourself  that  I  am  riot  afraid  of  you.  I  have 
come  in  here,  where  you  thought  I  could  not  come,  and 
I  am  not  even  taking  your  arms  from  you.  You  are 
free  to  stay  or  go.  If  you  decide  to  stay  and  march 
with  the  other  Chiricahua  to  the  San  Carlos,  you  will 
not  be  harmed. 

"  You  have  done  things  for  which  you  ought  to  be 
arrested;  but  if  you  will  promise  to  behave  yourself 
and  work,  I  will  see  to  it  that  you  are  placed  wherever 
you  choose,  on  the  reservation.  I  will  make  soldiers 
of  your  own  men,  to  keep  peace  in  your  camp.  The 
ugly  long-nosed  man  (who  was  Lieutenant  Gatewood) 
shall  select  them,  and  he  will  be  your  officer.  He  will 
see  to  it  that  you  get  whatever  you  are  entitled  to  get. 

243 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"  But  if  you  do  not  go  back  with  me,  then  it  will  be 
war.  I  will  cover  all  this  country  with  soldiers  and 
scouts,  and  the  Mexicans  and  the  Americans  and  the 
scouts  will  hunt  you  down  without  stopping.  Now  I 
have  spoken.  I  ask  you  to  leave  me  and  to  think  this 
over,  and  talk  with  your  men.  Then  you  must  tell 
me  what  you  have  decided,  for  I  do  not  want  there  to 
be  any  misunderstanding." 

The  council  broke  up.  Geronimo  appeared  rather 
downcast,  too.  The  rest  of  the  day  he  and  his  people 
kept  by  themselves.  Even  Nah-che  did  not  come  over 
again.  It  was  an  anxious  period,  for  the  Geronimo 
band  were  able  to  put  up  a  hard  fight  still,  and  the 
camp  was  full  of  Chiricahuas. 

"  What  do  you  think  Geronimo  will  do,  Micky  ?  " 
asked  Jimmie. 

"  He  is  a  smart  man,  and  likes  to  talk,"  answered 
Micky.  "  He  is  a  war-captain.  But  when  he  sees  that 
he  is  talking  alone,  he  will  quit.  Cluke's  words  stung1 
him,  for  no  chief  likes  to  be  talked  at  like  that.  I 
looked  for  a  fight  right  away,  and  so  did  Sibi.  There 
was  no  fight — it  would  have  been  a  good  fight,  though, 
with  so  many  Chiricahua  all  around  us.  Now  I  think 
that  if  Geronimo  is  still  here,  in  the  morning,  it  means 
peace." 

Everybody — soldiers,  scouts  and  packers— slept 
with  one  eye  and  one  ear  open,  this  night.  But  in  the 
morning  Geronimo  asked  the  general  for  another  talk. 
It  seemed  as  though  the  decision  had  been  made. 

"  I  have  thought  deeply,  and  have  talked  with  my 
people,"  said  Geronimo.  "  We  were  not  well  treated 

244 


WAR  OR  PEACE? 

at  San  Carlos,  but  if  you  will  be  good  to  us  we  will 
<lo  as  you  tell  us  to  do.  The  white  man  does  not  see 
as  the  Apache  sees,  and  yet  you  have  made  me  feel 
that  I  have  done  wrong.  I  will  go  with  you  to  the  San 
Carlos.  But  first  I  ask  you  to  order  me  to  send  out 
for  the  rest  of  my  people.  They  are  much  scattered, 
and  they  have  many  ponies  and  cattle  which  belong  to 
them;  but  if  they  see  only  signals  they  will  think  them 
to  be  signals  set  by  your  scouts,  to  fool  them.  And  if 
I  go  away  and  leave  them,  then  the  Mexicans  will  kill 
them." 

"  You  must  try  to  find  the  white  boy,"  reminded  the 
general. 

"  I  will  do  exactly  as  you  say/'  replied  Geronimo. 

"Is  it  peace,  chi-kis-n?"  inquired  Jimmie,  of 
Nah-che. 

"It  is  peace,"  answered  Nah-che;  but  he  did  not 
smile. 

"  Hooray !  "  cheered  Long  Jim  Cook.  "  That  was 
a  tall  bluff  on  the  gen'ral's  part,  I  reckon ;  but  it  worked. 
For  a  while  we  were  in  a  bad  box,  with  the  camp 
runnin'  over  with  Chiricahua,  an*  thirty  or  forty  fightin' 
bronc's  up  on  those  cliffs,  ready  to  rake  us.  I  wouldn't 
trust  all  these  scouts,  in  a  pinch,  either.  They've  got 
too  many  kin,  in  the  hostiles." 

"  D'  you  suppose  Geronimo  has  somethin'  up  his 
sleeve,  still?"  proposed  Martin  the  cook,  to  Frank 
Monach.  "  He  acts  awful  agreeable." 


XXIII 
GERONIMO  PLAYS  SMART 

"  TO-MORROW  we  go  home/'  declared  Micky  Free, 
to  Jimmie  and  Nah-che.  They  three  had  been  messing 
together,  as  old  friends. 

It  was  the  afternoon  of  May  23.  Two  days  had 
passed  since  Geronimo  had  decided  upon  peace.  He 
had  kept  his  word,  for  the  Chiricahuas  had  continued 
to  come  in — crippled  old  Nana  himself  had  arrived 
this  very  morning — all  the  chiefs  and  captains  were 
here  except  Juh,  and  Juh,  or  Whoa,  need  not  be  ex- 
pected. He  and  his  band  of  one  man  and  two  squaws 
had  gone  farther  south. 

Even  Ka-e-ten-na  (The  Looking-glass),  who  was  a 
young  war-captain  of  the  Mexican  Chiricahuas,  part 
of  Whoa's  people,  had  come  in.  Now  rations  were 
being  issued  'by  Lieutenant  Gatewood  to  two  hundred 
and  fifty  extra  persons,  including  a  dozen  Mexicans — 
forlorn  women  and  children  whom  the  Chiricahuas  had 
brought  with  them.  But,  alas 

"  Don't  we  wait  for  Charley  McComas  ?  "  de- 
manded Jimmie. 

"The  white  boy?"  And  Micky  shook  his  red 
head.  "  No.  It  is  too  late.  He  is  lost.  If  we  wait 
longer,  there  will  be  no  food.  Too  many  people  eat." 

"  Doesn't  Chato  know  where  he  is  ?  " 

"  Chato  says  not,"  answered  Nah-che.    "  He  was 

246 


GERONIMO  PLAYS  SMART 

left  with  the  women.  We  have  asked  the  women. 
They  say  that  on  the  first  day,  when  Chato's  rancheria 
was  attacked,  the  little  white  boy  ran  into  the  bushes. 
Nobody  has  seen  him  again.  He  did  not  come  out. 
Then  there  were  rains  that  washed  his  trail.  It  was 
eight  days  ago,  and  we  think  he  is  dead.'7 

The  general  had  questioned  the  Chiricahuas  closely. 
They  all  stuck  to  the  one  story,  and  seemed  to  be  speak- 
ing the  truth.  Six-year-old  Charley  probably  had  been 
so  frightened  that  he  had  run  until  exhausted  and  lost 
in  the  dense  brush.  No  trace  of  him  was  ever 
discovered. 

When  the  general  finally  issued  the  order  that  camp 
should  be  broken  in  the  morning,  and  the  start  made 
for  San  Carlos,  Geronimo  was  smiling  and  ready.  He 
asked  only  that  the  first  marches  be  slow,  so  that  the 
Chiricahuas  who  were  still  out  might  catch  up.  There 
seemed  to  be  no  end  of  those  Chiricahuas  who  were 
still  "  out." 

"  We  expect  you  to  protect  us  from  the  Mexican 
soldiers,"  said  Geronimo.  "  My  old  men  and  women 
who  are  coming  cannot  fight/' 

"  I  will  protect  you,"  promised  the  general. 

This  appeared  to  make  Geronimo  happy  and 
satisfied. 

However,  in  the  morning  a  sudden  delay  occurred. 
The  pack-trains  were  loaded  and  waiting,  the  cavalry 
had  formed,  all  the  Chiricahuas  were  herded  together, 
the  scouts  were  on  the  flanks,  but  the  general  had  sent 
for  Geronimo — was  talking  earnestly  to  him. 

Presently  Archie  Macintosh  came  trotting  back, 

247 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

ahorse,  as  if  with  an  eye  to  seeing  that  everything  was 
closed  up. 

"What's  the  trouble  ahead,  Archie?"  hailed 
Frank. 

Archie  grinned  from  his  sun-burned  face,  and 
paused. 

"  Just  been  discovered  we're  about  a  hundred  bucks 
shy.  They  disappeared  between  sunset  and  sunrise. 
Looks  as  though  that  old  rascal  of  a  Geronimo  had 
put  one  over  on  us." 

"  Hi !  I  said  he  had  somethin'  up  his  sleeve," 
chuckled  Long  Jim  Cook.  "  Where  they  gone?  After 
plunder,  I  bet  you !  " 

"  Of  course,"  declared  Archie.  "  And  the  general's 
raising  Cain.  He  says  to  Geronimo :  *  Those  bucks  of 
yours  are  riding  south  to  steal  horses  and  cattle  from 
the  Mexicans/  And  Geronimo,  he  just  smiles  and 
says :  '  Oh,  they  wouldn't  rob  anybody.  They're  look- 
ing for  some  of  our  own  horses  and  cattle  that  we've 
left.'  And  the  general  says :  *  I  won't  allow  you  to 
take  any  stolen  stock  across  the  border.  I'd  be  court- 
martialed  for  it.'  And  Geronimo  says :  '  Don't  bother 
with  that.  All  those  Mexicans  are  good  for,  is  to 
grow  horses  and  cattle  for  the  Apaches.  We  will  ride 
on  slowly.  But  if  there  is  any  trouble  with  the  Mexi- 
cans, you  have  promised  to  protect  us.  Besides,  it 
will  be  several  'days  before  my  men  come  to  join  us/ 
So  the  general,  he's  regularly  up  a  stump." 

And  that  was  true.  For  the  time  being  the  wily 
Geronimo  had  outwitted  him.  Without  doubt  most 
of  the  able-bodied  warriors  had  ridden  away  for  the 

248 


GERONIMO  PLAYS  SMAET 

purpose  of  making  one  last  raid,  and  returning  to  the 
reservation,  rich ! 

The  march  north  was  begun.  The  procession 
stretched  for  more  than  a  mile — the  old  men  and  old 
women,  the  wounded,  and  the  little  children  riding 
upon  ponies,  the  women  afoot  packing  great  bundles, 
and  many  carrying  cottonwood  boughs  to  shield  their 
heads  from  the  fierce  sun. 

Soon  the  Chiricahuas  numbered  three  hundred,  the 
majority  women  and  old  men  and  children.  The  herd 
of  horses  and  cattle  steadily  grew.  Near  the  border 
a  dozen  warriors  caught  up,  at  night;  they  brought 
fifty  horses.  But  at  the  camp  across  the  border  the 
warriors,  driving  herds  of  stock,  joined  in  streams, 
and  the  general  found  that  he  had  three  hundred  and 
sixty-three  Chiricahuas  and  over  one  thousand  horses 
and  mules  and  cows  bearing  Mexican  brands ! 

"  Every  one  of  those  must  be  turned  back  into 
Mexico,"  he  ordered. 

"No,"  replied  Geronimo.  "They  belong  to  us. 
We  bring  them,  so  that  we  can  go  to  farming,  as  you 
ask  us  to  do.  Who  cares  what  a  lot  of  howling 
Mexicans  say?" 

Mexicans,  lawyers  and  angry  ranchers  claiming 
horses  and  cows  were  threatening  to  sue  the  United 
States,  and  General  Crook,  for  helping  to  steal  Mexi- 
can stock.  But  many  of  the  brands  had  been  changed 
over,  and  there  were  disputes  without  end,  the  Mexi- 
cans and  the  Chiricahuas  both  claiming  all  tthe  cattle. 

So  the  only  way  out  of  the  muddle  was,  to  drive  the 
stock  to  San  Carlos,  and  sell  it,  and  send  the  money 

249 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

to  the  United  States  treasury.  Then  the  Mexicans 
who  could  prove  their  claims  should  be  paid. 

This  did  not  please  Geronimo. 

"  The  Chiricahua  will  not  understand,  and  they 
will  not  forget,"  said  Maria  Jilda,  who  was  at  the 
border  camp.  "  You  will  chase  Geronimo  and  Nah-che 
again,  Jeemie." 

"  Well,  I  shorely  hope  not,"  quoth  Frank  Monach. 
"  Hope  we  get  a  chance  to  rest  up,  anyhow.  The  gen- 
eral and  Sieber  look  about  tuckered." 

And  that  was  so.  After  five  hundred  miles  of 
travel  through  the  roughest  of  mountain  country,  in 
heat  and  cold  and  dry  and  wet,  even  General  Crook 
seemed  to  be  worn  out. 

He  kept  his  word  with  the  Chiricahuas.  Geronimo 
and  the  other  chiefs  were  permitted  to  choose  their 
own  lands,  and  settled  with  their  people,  five  hundred 
and  twelve  in  number,  south  of  Fort  Apache.  It  was 
a  fine  country,  too,  on  the  head-waters  of  Turkey 
Creek. 

The  general  obtained  orders  from  Washington  that 
all  the  Chiricahuas  should  be  placed  under  his  control. 
This  was  thought  by  Arizona  to  be  a  very  good  plan, 
because  the  Chiricahuas,  like  the  other  Apaches,  had 
much  faith  in  "  Cluke." 

As  the  governor  said,  in  an  annual  message  to  the 
legislature :  "  The  Indians  know  General  Crook  and 
his  methods,  and  respect  both." 

Jimmie  stuck  at  Fort  Bowie.  He  had  been  ap- 
pointed pack-master,  there,  and  this  was  quite  a  job 
for  a  boy  scarcely  twenty-one  years  old.  But  he  felt 

250 


GERONIMO  PLAYS  SMART 

as  though  he  had  grown  up  in  the  service;  and  old 
Jack  Long  had  started  him  off  well. 

Captain  Crawford  was  in  military  charge  of  the 
San  Carlos  reservation.  Micky  Free  was  over  there, 
too,  as  a  sergeant  of  the  Indian  police.  Lieutenant 
Gatewood  was  stationed  in  the  Chiricahua  camp  at 
Turkey  Creek,  just  as  the  general  had  promised.  Maria 
Jilda  took  up  a  ranch;  he  said  that  he  was  tired  of 
scouting  and  interpreting.  Al  Sieber,  as  chief  of 
scouts,  divided  his  time  between  San  Carlos  and  Fort 
Apache;  and  where  Archie  Macintosh  went,  Jimmie 
did  not  know. 

But  there  was  no  opportunity  for  being  lonesome 
at  Fort  Bowie.  Pack-train  duties  kept  a  fellow  hop- 
ping, if  he  tried  to  have  a  crack  outfit — and  the  only 
outfits  tolerated  by  the  quarter-master's  department 
under  General  Crook  were  crack  ones.  Supplies  had  to 
be  packed  in  from  the  railroad,  fifteen  miles,  and  there 
were  scoutings  and  practice  marches. 

For  the  remainder  of  1883  everything  seemed  to  be 
quiet  Reports  stated  that  Geronimo  and  all  the  Chiri- 
cahuas  were  farming  and  doing  famously,  and  that 
the  White  Mountains,  on  the  other  side  of  Fort  Apache, 
were  getting  rich  by  selling  their  barley  and  hay  to 
the  post  and  to  the  towns. 

Then,  as  the  months  of  1884  rolled  by,  troubles 
appeared  on  the  surface.  The  military  and  the  Indian 
Bureau  employes  did  not  agree.  The  military  officers, 
like  Captain  Crawford  and  Lieutenant  Gatewood,  had 
charge  of  the  Chiricahua  prisoners,  but  the  Indian  agent 
had  charge  of  the  other  Indians.  The  military  was 
obliged  to  keep  order  at  San  Carlos  and  the  Fort  Apache 

251 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

reservation,  both,  but  the  Indian  agent  had  the  author- 
ity to  direct  the  farming.  The  Chiricahuas  had  been 
encouraged  by  General  Crook  to  mingle  with  the  peace- 
ful White  Mountains,  and  all  the  Indians  preferred  the 
soldiers  to  the  civilians. 

The  White  Mountains  and  Chiricahuas  complained 
that  they  were  not  getting  their  rightful  amount  of 
meat  from  the  agent.  The  man  sent  out  to  see,  re- 
ported that  they  were  getting  everything. 

Captain  Crawford  did  not  agree  with  the  report. 
The  Indian  Bureau  asked  that  he  be  removed.  He  de- 
manded a  court-martial.  The  court-martial  found  that 
he  was  honest  and  correct;  and  that  the  Apaches,  in- 
stead of  getting  one  thousand  cows,  had  been  assigned 
only  six  hundred  poor  ones,  with  the  promise  that  the 
rest  should  be  delivered  "  when  required." 

But  Captain  Crawford  was  powerless  in  the  matter, 
and  the  Apaches  could  not  understand  why  there  should 
be  two  fathers  over  them. 

In  May  young  chief  Ka-e-ten-na  went  "  bad."  He 
was  the  Mexican  Apache  chief  who  had  surrendered ; 
now  he  made  ready  to  run  away,  with  a  band  of  other 
restless  Chiricahuas,  into  Mexico  again. 

General  Crook  was  at  West  Point,  to  address  the 
graduating  class  there.  However,  Ka-e-ten-na  was 
arrested  by  his  own  people,  and  was  tried  the  same  as  a 
white  man,  and  sentenced  to  be  "  shut  up  till  he  learned 
sense."  He  was  sent  to  the  United  States  military 
prison  on  Alcatraz  Island,  in  San  Francisco  Bay,  for 
a  year ;  and  this  proved  a  very  good  plan,  the  same  as 
the  cases  of  Santos  and  Pedro  and  old  Miguel ;  because 

252 


GERONIMO  PLANS  SMART 

after  he  had  seen  how  powerful  the  Americans  were 
and  what  a  great  city  they  had,  he  was  cured  of  wishing 
to  live  wild. 

"  He  is  only  one,  though,"  said  Micky  Free,  this 
fall,  while  at  Bowie  on  a  scouting  trip  with  Tom  Horn 
who  was  Al  Sieber's  right-hand  man.  "  Sibi  thinks 
that  all  the  Chiricahua  would  better  be  sent  to  prison. 
So  does  Tom.  They  have  had  a  talk  with  Geronimo, 
and  the  only  way  to  do  is  to  send  all  the  Chiricahua  out 
of  Arizona,  quick." 


XXIV 

PACK-MASTER  JIMMIE  MEETS  A  SURPRISE 

"  WILL  there  be  trouble  again,  Micky  ?  " 

"  Of  course/'  laughed  Micky  scornfully.  "  Every- 
body in  Arizona  knows  that.  You  see  it  yourself, 
Cheemie.  You  read  the  talking  papers.  The  talking 
papers  of  Mexico  say  that  the  Chiricahua  from  Arizona 
are  sneaking  down  there  and  stealing  cattle.  That  is 
true.  Even  Gatewood  is  getting  afraid.  He  is  losing 
Chiricahua  all  the  time;  they  go  somewhere  and  his 
counts  are  always  different.  I  think  he  will  move  to 
Fort  Apache.  It  is  only  twelve  miles,  and  he  will  be 
safer. 

"  The  Geronimo  Chiricahua  see  that  the  San  Carlos 
Apaches  and  the  White  Mountains  are  unhappy,  with 
two  fathers  bossing  them.  So  they  trade  their  goods 
for  whiskey  and  guns.  Sibi  went  to  Geronimo  and 
asked  him  what  he  was  planning  to  do.  Geronimo 
said :  '  It  is  no  use  to  lie  to  you,  Sibi.  You  read  my 
thoughts.  The  truth  is  this :  When  my  men  came  up 
with  Cluke  from  Mexico  they  expected  to  go  back  every 
little  while,  to  get  horses  and  cows.  There  is  no  harm 
in  stealing  cattle  from  those  Mexicans.  Besides,  Cluke 
took  away  the  cattle  that  we  first  brought  up.  If  my 
men  are  not  allowed  to  do  that,  they  would  rather  live 
in  Mexico  and  act  as  they  please.  It  is  only  my  talk 
that  holds  them,  and  some  day  they  won't  listen/ 

"  To  hear  Geronimo  pretend  peace  talk  would  make 

254 


PACK-MASTER  JIMMIE  MEETS  A  SURPRISE 

a  mule  laugh/'  concluded  Micky.  "  Now  because  Cluke 
is  in  Washington  we  have  come  down  here  with  Tom 
Horn,  and  Sibi  who  has  a  lame  leg  is  coming  in  a 
wagon.  They  will  talk  with  Bourke.  Sibi  says  to 
capture  all  the  Chiricahua  and  send  them  far  away. 
That  will  end  war.  But  I  guess  it  won't  be  done." 

Captain  Bourke — who  had  been  promoted  to  major 
— was  at  Bowie,  waiting  for  the  general  to  return  from 
Washington.  The  general  had  gone  to  Washington  in 
the  hopes  of  getting  more  authority  to  deal  with  the 
Apaches. 

He  did  not  succeed.  All  this  fall  and  winter  of 
1884  the  War  Department  and  the  Interior  Depart- 
ment could  not  agree  upon  the  control  of  the 
reservations. 

The  officers  at  San  Carlos  staked  out  an  irrigating 
ditch  for  the  Apaches  to  dig,  and  the  agent  declined 
to  permit  the  digging.  The  Indians  believed  nobody. 
Captain  Crawford  asked  to  be  transferred  to  his  regi- 
ment, the  Third  Cavalry,  and  Captain  F.  E.  Pierce,  of 
the  First  Infantry,  was  assigned  to  the  military  charge 
of  San  Carlos.  He  had  lost  an  eye  in  the  Civil  War. 

In  February  of  1885  Major-General  John  Pope, 
who  commanded  the  Military  Division  of  the  Pacific, 
from  San  Francisco  announced,  to  Washington: 

If  General  Crook's  authority  over  the  Indians  at  San 
Carlos  be  curtailed  or  modified  in  any  way,  there  are  certain 
to  follow  very  serious  results,  if  not  a  renewal  of  Indian  wars 
and  depredations  in  Arizona. 

Consequently,  with  matters  at  sixes  and  sevens,  the 
outlook  at  Fort  Bowie  was  very  gloomy. 

255 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

In  the  middle  of  May  Jimmie  rode  down  toward 
the  border,  to  see  how  some  of  the  pack-mules  in 
pasture  upon  a  ranch  were  getting  along.  There  was 
likely  to  be  need  of  them  soon,  for  the  Indians  certainly 
were  going  to  break  out. 

It  was  an  all-day  ride.  The  pasture  was  in  some 
bottoms  among  the  hills,  where  there  was  good  water 
and  grass ;  so  he  cooked  his  own  supper  and  prepared 
to  sleep  out,  beneath  the  stars. 

He  was  just  about  to  turn  in,  under  his  blanket, 
when  he  heard  Chiquito  snort.  Chiquito  was  his  horse, 
picketed  out  to  graze.  The  snort  might  mean  mountain 
lion,  Mexican  leopard,  wolf,  deer,  or ! 

"What  is  it,  Chiquito?" 

Chiquito' s  head  was  up,  his  ears  pricked,  he  was 
staring  into  the  south.  He  knew  a  heap,  Chiquito  did. 

Jimmie  gazed,  too,  in  the  same  direction.  And 
there,  far  to  the  southwest,  across  the  Mexican  line, 
he  saw  a  red  gleam  on  a  high  hill.  A  signal  fire,  sure : 
Indian  signal ! 

Jimmie  scrambled  to  his  feet  and  stood  peering 
intent  Presently  the  gleam  was  broken — and  then 
repeated.  Indians  down  there  were  signalling  for  other 
Indians  to  answer.  That  was  plain.  Even  Chiquito 
had  known.  He  was  Indian  wise. 

Jimmie  swept  the  dark  horizon  again  and  again, 
to  catch  the  answer,  but  none  appeared.  His  view 
from  the  camp  was  not  very  good;  but  he  must  find 
out  what  was  going  on;  accordingly  he  snatched  up 
his  blanket  and  ran  through  the  brush  to  the  crest  of 
the  slope  above  him. 

256 


PACK-MASTER  JIMMIE  MEETS  A  SURPRISE 

Here  he  found  the  right  spot,  and  squatted,  with 
his  blanket  wrapped  around  him,  to  wait.  He  did  not 
dare  to  build  a  fire,  lest  it  be  seen. 

This  was  a  long,  cold  wait. 

The  fire  in  the  southwest  flared  regularly  at  inter- 
vals of  about  an  hour.  "  Answer,"  it  kept  saying. 
"  Answer."  Jimmie  eyed  the  north  as  well  as  the  south 
— and  at  midnight  the  expected  happened.  The  signal 
in  the  south  had  been  answered,  for  it  suddenly  broke 
into  a  message. 

There  were  one  long  flash  and  several  shorter  ones. 
Then,  quickly  following,  two  flashes,  and  an  interval, 
and  two  more. 

As  anybody  ought  to  know,  this  spelled :  "  All  right 
We  will  wait  two  days." 

The  fire  died.  That  was  the  end.  Jimmie  jumped 
to  a  conclusion.  There  had  been  only  the  one  fire  in 
the  south ;  so  the  answer  had  come  from  the  north, 
and  he  had  somehow  missed  it.  But  the  Indians  in 
Mexico  had  signalled  to  some  Indians  in  Arizona,  and 
were  to  wait  two  days ! 

The  Chiricahuas  had  arranged  to  run  away !  Prob- 
ably they  already  were  out,  making  for  Mexico,  to  join 
runaways  already  there.  Whew!  Great  Scott! 

Well,  all  that  he  could  do  was  to  wait  until  day- 
light, and  then  make  for  Bowie.  'And  the  sooner  the 
better,  because  he  was  right  in  the  track  of  runaways. 

He  went  down  to  his  camp,  and  got  a  half  night's 
sleep.  In  the  morning  he  did  not  wait  to  gather  his 
mules ;  he  saddled  Chiquito  at  daylight  and  struck  out 
by  the  shortest  way. 

17  257 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

The  country  all  seemed  peaceful  Who  might  have 
foretold  that  he  would  bump  right  into  the  hostiles? 
But  that  is  precisely  what  happened.  He  was  loping 
up  a  shallow  draw  fringed  by  rocks  and  stunted  pines 
— had  been  riding  two  hours — when  as  he  rounded  a 
shoulder,  on  a  sudden  here  there  came  at  headlong 
gallop  a  dozen  steers. 

He  wheeled  Chiquito  to  one  side,  quick ;  barely  had 
time  to  get  out  of  their  way — didn't  have  time  to  get 
out  of  the  way  of  the  three  young  bucks  chasing  them 
full  tilt;  and  before  he  could  spur  Chiquito  up  the 
flank  of  the  draw,  for  cover,  he  was  a  "  goner/' 

With  a  yell  and  with  guns  leveled  the  three  bronc's 
had  charged  him ;  a  bullet  sang  by  his  ear ;  and  he  raised 
his  hand  for  a  talk.  They  arrived  instantly,  reined 
short,  around  him.  He  didn't  know  them,  and  they 
appeared  not  to  know  him. 

"  Chi-kis-n,"  he  attempted.  But  they  only  scowled 
and  talked  among  themselves  in  Apache. 

"Shall  we  kill  him  here?" 

"  That  is  best." 

"  Stick  him  with  your  lance." 

"  You  talk  foolish,"  retorted  Jimmie  boldly,  in 
good  Apache.  "  There's  no  sense  in  killing  me.  You'll 
only  get  in  trouble  by  it.  Take  me  to  your  chief." 

"  Who  are  you,  that  speaks  Apache?  " 

"  Never  you  mind  who  I  am,"  retorted  Jimmie. 
"  You  take  me  to  your  chief.  If  he  says  kill  me,  all 
right.  But  you'd  better  wait  till  he  does  say  so.  You're 
only  warriors." 

"  Where  are  the  rest  of  your  party,  white  man?  " 


PACK-MASTER  JIMMIE  MEETS  A  SURPRISE 

"  I'm  alone." 

"  What  is  your  business  ?  " 

"  I  herd  mules." 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  To  Fort  Bowie." 

"  We  ought  to  kill  him.  He  will  tell  on  us  if  we 
let  him  go,"  said  one,  aside. 

"No.  We'll  have  to  take  him  back,"  said  the 
oldest  boy.  "  There  is  plenty  of  time  to  kill  him  later." 

They  snatched  his  rifle  and  revolver  from  the  hol- 
sters, and  on  either  side  and  behind  jostling  him  along, 
drove  him  up  the  draw.  For  the  next  five  minutes 
Jimmie  figured  that  his  chances  were  about  one  in  one 
hundred. 

They  rounded  the  turn ;  and  here,  in  a  little  hollow, 
was  a  group  of  twelve  or  fifteen  men  and  women  kneel- 
ing over  two  cow  carcasses,  and  butchering  them.  Sev- 
eral of  the  figures  looked  to  see  who  was  coming.  One 
of  them  was  Nah-che.  Jimmie's  heart  beat  less  rapidly. 
His  chances  were  increased. 

However,  Nah-che,  standing  erect,  was  not  at  all 
pleased  to  see  him. 

"  Why  are  you  in  here?  "  demanded  Nah-che. 

"  I  came  down  from  Bowie  to  look  at  some  mules. 
Now  I  was  going  back  to  Bowie." 

"  Did  you  know  that  some  of  us  are  off  the  reser- 
vation?" 

"  Yes.  I  saw  a  signal  fire  last  night,  in  Mexico, 
and  I  read  what  it  said." 

"  What  did  it  say?  " 

"  It  said  that  they  would  wait  two  Bays." 

259 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"  That  is  right,"  replied  Nah-che.  "  I  am  sorry 
twe  met  you,  chi-kis-n,  because  now  you  will  be  killed." 

"  That  may  be  so.  But  why  do  you  kill  me,  chi- 
kis-n?"  challenged  Jimmie.  "I  have  done  you  no 
harm." 

"  No;  we  fought  against  each  other,  but  that  was 
understood.  If  you  will  promise  me  not  to  say  a  word 
about  us  at  Fort  Bowie  I  will  let  you  go." 

*  You  know  very  well  that  I  would  not  be  a  man 
if  I  gave  any  such  promise,"  retorted  Jimmie.  "  I  shall 
not  lie  to  you." 

"If  white  men  never  lied  to  us,  then  everything 
would  be  all  right,"  said  Nah-che.  "  They  do  lie  to  us, 
so  you  must  die.  I  am  sorry,  but " 

"  No !  No ! "  One  of  the  squaws  had  rushed  up. 
She  was  Nah-da-ste !  "This  is  the  Boy-who-sleeps. 
I  remember  him  well.  He  has  slept  in  my  lodge  and 
eaten  my  food.  I  won't  have  him  killed.  You  had 
better  let  him  go.  He  cannot  harm  us." 

"  No.  Fort  Bowie  is  a  long  way  off,"  reminded 
Jimmie.  "  Besides,  if  you  are  off  the  reservation,  that 
is  known  by  this  time/' 

"  Maybe  not.  We  cut  the  talking  wire,"  answered 
Nah-che.  "  But  it  is  true  that  Fort  Bowie  is  a  long 
way  off.  Anyway,"  he  added,  "  I  don't  want  to  kill 
you,  and  I  cannot  argue  with  women.  You  can  go, 
chi-kis-n.  By  the  time  you  tell  what  you  know,  we 
shall  be  far  in  the  other  direction.  So  go  as  fast  as 
you  please,  but  keep  going  straight,  f of  you  might  not 
find  a  chi-kis-n  among  other  Chiricahua." 

*  Good,"  grunted  Jimmie,  as  his  rifle  and  revolver 

£60 


PACK-MASTER  JIMMIE  MEETS  A  SURPRISE 

were  passed  to  him.  "  I  ask  one  word.  Tell  me  why 
you  are  leaving  the  Fort  Apache  country.  I  wish  the 
truth." 

"  Everybody  but  Cluke  is  our  enemy.  We  are  lied 
about.  Even  Chato  tell  lies  on  us,  and  gives  us  a  bad 
name,  because  he  hates  Geronimo.  If  we  stay  we  will 
be  locked  up.  That  is  what  is  said.  Now  go,  for  I 
will  talk  no  more." 

Jimmie  took  the  hint,  and  spurred  away.  He  knew 
better  than  even  to  look  back, 


XXV 

ON  THE  JOB  WITH  CAPTAIN  CRAWFORD 

ONE  HUNDRED  AND  TWENTY  Chiricahuas  under 
Geronimo,  Chihuahua,  old  Nana  and  Nah-che  were  the 
ones  who  had  run  away.  Chato  had  persuaded  the 
three  hundred  other  Chiricahuas  to  stay.  He  did  not 
approve  of  Geronimo  and  Nah-che,  or  of  further  war. 

The  outbreak  had  occurred  on  the  night  of  May  17. 
The  Chiricahuas  had  left  in  parties  of  twenty  or  so,  to 
meet  again  across  the  border.  Lieutenant  Britton 
Davis,  of  the  Third  Cavalry,  had  been  in  charge  at  the 
reservation.  As  soon  as  he  had  discovered  the  loss, 
he  had  tried  to  telegraph  General  Crook ;  but  the  "  talk- 
ing wires  "  had  been  damaged.  Before  the  message 
got  through,  the  Chiricahuas  were  beyond  the  railroad, 
with  a  clear  field  ahead. 

Nah-che  had  spoken  truly  when  he  said  to  Jimmie 
that  they  ran  away  because  they  feared  being  locked  up. 
They  knew  that  they  were  watched.  And  in  defiance 
of  the  general's  complaints  that  liquor  was  manufac- 
tured upon  the  reservation,  they  had  obtained  a  quan- 
tity of  it  and  drunk  it — which  of  course  made  them 
liable  to  punishment. 

The  general  came  over  to  the  reservation  too  late ; 
but  flying  columns  had  been  sent  out  at  once,  from 
Apache  and  Thomas  and  Grant  and  Bowie.  Two  hun- 
dred scouts  from  all  the  reservation  bands  were  en- 
listed for  six  months.  Chato  himself  volunteered. 

262 


ON  THE  JOB  WITH  CAPTAIN  CRAWFORD 

The  columns  dispatched  were  mainly  for  the  pur- 
pose of  keeping  the  Chiricahuas  away  from  the  border 
until  it  might  be  patrolled,  and  the  principal  band 
located  by  either  the  American  or  the  Mexican  troops. 

Meanwhile  as  a  crack  pack-master  Jimmie  was  de- 
cidedly busy  at  Fort  Bowie.  Bowie  had  waxed  to  a 
bustling  supply  depot,  and  was  likely  to  be  headquarters 
field  base. 

Tom  Moore,  who  had  been  up  north  in  the  Depart- 
ment of  the  Platte,  was  sent  for  by  the  general  to  be 
chief  packer  again  in  the  Department  of  Arizona.  He 
brought  down  from  Cheyenne,  Wyoming,  the  best  of 
the  Platte  pack-mules,  and  was  given  a  great  welcome 
at  Bowie  by  Jimmie  and  the  other  "  old-timers." 

The  country  was  being  scoured  for  good  mules. 
These  had  to  be  broken,  some  of  them,  and  distributed. 
Troops  were  pouring  in,  until  the  general  had  at  his 
disposal  forty  companies  of  infantry  and  the  same  of 
cavalry. 

He  was  planning  surely.  He  directed  that  helio- 
graph stations,  for  the  purpose  of  telegraphing  by  mir- 
rored sun-flashes,  be  established  upon  hill-tops  all  along 
on  both  sides  of  the  border.  Then  he  went  to  Wash- 
ington, to  get  a  better  agreement  with  Mexico  regard- 
ing a  joint  campaign  against  the  Apaches. 

There  was  a  brief  period  of  quiet,  except  for  hard 
work  that  kept  Jimmie,  as  well  as  others,  on  the  move. 
The  final  break  came  about  the  middle  of  October. 

Jimmie  saw  the  heliostat  flashes  which  spread  the 
news.  He  was  riding  back  to  Bowie  from  a  long  trip 
down  to  a  supply  camp  at  the  border.  Chancing  to 

£63 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

turn  his  head,  when  only  a  little  way  out  from  the 
camp,  he  caught  the  flash  of  a  message  from  a  statio 
in  the  south. 

The  regulation  Morse  dots  and  dashes  (long  and 
short  flashes)  were  used  by  the  stations.  Now  he 
paused,  to  read.  The  station  was  at  least  ten  miles 
distant.  The  air  was  very  clear,  and  his  eyes  were 
good  eyes. 

What  was  that  ?  No  practice  message,  this,  or  ordi- 
nary routine.  The  first  word — even  the  first  three 
letters — stiffened  him  intent. 

"  H-o-s-t-i-l-e  b-a-n-d  h-e-a-d-g  (heading)  n-o-r-t-h 
f-o-r  D-r-a-g-o-o-n  c-o-u-n-t-r-y.  Q-u-i-c-k."  Signed. 

Hah!  "Wake  up,  Chiquito!  Gwan  with  you!" 
The  message  read  like  business,  and  stirring  business. 
Evidently  the  Chiricamias  were  getting  -bold.  But  it 
did  not  seem  possible  that  with  all  these  troops,  and 
the  railroad,  and  the  telegraph,  and  the  helio  stations, 
and  the  armed  and  watchful  settlers,  a  raid  could 
amount  to  much. 

The  helio  stations  were  twenty  or  twenty-five  miles 
apart.  A  message  had  been  sent  from  Nacori,  in  the 
mountains  of  northern  Mexico,  two  hundred  miles  to 
Fort  Bowie,  in  an  hour.  But  so  fast  moved  this  band 
of  raiders,  and  so  cleverly  they  chose  their  trail,  that 
by  the  time  Jimmie  arrived  at  Bowie  they  not  only  had 
crossed  the  line  but  had  disappeared  somewhere  irt 
Arizona! 

Already  the  troops  were  in  motion,  trying  to  close 
in  and  head  the  raiders  off.  It  was  reported  that  there 
were  eleven  warriors.  They  were  not  even  sighted 

264 


ON  THE  JOB  WITH  CAPTAIN  CRAWFORD 

again,  until,  suddenly,  they  struck  the  White  Mountain 
reservation  itself — surprised  a  camp  of  the  White 
Mountains,  killed  twelve  and  carried  away  six  women 
and  children. 

That,  then,  had  been  the  object  of  the  raid :  to  take 
revenge  upon  the  reservation  Apaches  for  sending 
scouts  against  the  Chiricahuas ! 

The  White  Mountains  succeeded  in  killing  one 
raider,  during  the  fight.  He  was  Hal-zay,  Nah-che's 
half-brother.  They  cut  off  his  head,  for  a  trophy.  But 
the  ten  others  completed  their  bold  circuit,  and  in  spite 
of  soldiers,  settlers,  telegraph,  heliostat  and  railroad 
escaped  back  into  Mexico. 

"  I  never  would  have  believed  it !  "  declared  Chief 
Packer  Tom  Moore,  to  Jimmie  at  Bowie.  "  It  beats 
the  Dutch !  The  general's  got  every  waterhole  covered, 
and  every  pass  watched.  Anyhow,  now  there's  a  fresh 
trail,  for  'back-tracking  on,  where  they  came  up  by  the 
shortest  way.  Crawford  and  Cap'n  Davis  are  going 
right  down  after  the  bacon,  to  stay  till  they  get  Geron- 
imo  or  his  scalp.  I've  picked  you  for  assistant  chief 
packer  with  one  of  'em.  Which  do  you  say?  Chances 
are  even.  You're  the  boss. 

"  Guess  I'll  throw  in  with  Crawford,  Tom,  if  you 
put  it  up  to  me,"  promptly  said  Jimmie.  Assistant 
chief  packer!  Wow! 

Captain  Crawford  and  Captain  Wirt  Davis  were 
Jx)th  good  men,  but  as  Tom  Horn,  acting  chief  of  scouts, 
had  remarked:  "  Crawford's  my  style  of  fighter:  the 
go-get-'em  kind  with  a  wolf  jaw ! " 

"  You'd  better  be  makin'  up  your  best  trains,  then," 

265 


GENERAL  CROOKTAND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

counseled  Tom,  to  Jimmie.  "  Three,  I  reckon.  Craw- 
ford won't  wait  on  sore  backs  or  sore  feet;  and  he'd 
rather  bust  every  man  and  every  mule  and  go  on  by 
himself,  than  let  Davis  outdo  him." 

When  Captain  Crawford  arrived  with  his  column 
at  Bowie,  from  Fort  Apache,  on  November  15,  Jimmie 
the  assistant  chief  packer  was  ready  for  him.  The 
Captain  Wirt  Davis  column  was  to  be  composed  of 
cavalry  and  scouts  both;  but  Captain  Crawford  was 
taking  only  scouts. 

These  were  one  hundred  Chiricahuas,  White  Moun- 
tains and  Warm  Springs,  from  the  Fort  Apache  reser- 
vation; but  mainly  Chiricahuas,  with  Chato  as  their 
chief,  and  Ka-e-ten-na  the  traveler  included.  Micky 
Free  was  going  with  the  San  Carlos  scouts  and  Captain 
Davis.  Captain  Crawford  had  selected  so  many  Chiri- 
cahuas because  his  goal  was  the  Sierra  Madre  Range 
again,  and  the  Chiricahuas  knew  all  that  country  well. 

The  scouts  formed  two  companies,  under  command 
of  First  Lieutenant  Marion  P.  Maus,  of  the  First  In- 
fantry, and  a  gallant  young  "  shave  tail,"  Second  Lieu- 
tenant William  Ewen  Shipp,  of  the  Tenth  Cavalry,  only 
two  years  out  of  West  Point. 

Another  "  shave  tail,"  Second  Lieutenant  Sam 
Faison,  of  the  First  Infantry,  who  had  graduated  in  the 
same  class  with  Lieutenant  Shipp,  was  the  adjutant, 
quarter-master  and  commissary,  all  three.  Dr.  T.  B. 
Davis  was  the  surgeon,  Concepcion  was  the  interpreter. 
Al  Sieber,  the  old  war-horse,  was  retained  to  look  after 
the  reservations,  but  Tom  Horn  was  to  be  chief  of 
scouts  and  had  proved  first-class. 

266 


ON  THE  JOB  WITH  CAPTAIN  CRAWFORD 

Altogether,  it  was  an  honor  to  be  in  pack  service 
with  such  an  expedition,  especially  as  Captain  Crawford 
had  volunteered  for  the  Sierra  Madre  trip  because  it 
was  the  more  dangerous  of  the  two. 

Lieutenant-General  Phil  Sheridan,  commander  of 
the  United  States  Army,  had  come  out  to  Bowie  from 
Washington,  to  see  the  columns  off.  He  and  General 
Crook  inspected  the  whole  outfit,  in  a  parade  at  the  fort. 

"  Well,"  reported  Chief  of  Scouts  Horn,  after  a 
conference  in  General  Crook's  quarters,  "  this  is  the 
idea :  The  general  says  we're  to  go  down  into  Mexico 
and  stay  six  months,  if  necessary,  and  when  we  strike 
a  trail  we're  to  follow  it  as  long  as  it  shows  a  single 
moccasin  track  or  pony  track.  Savvy?  When  we've 
killed  all  the  bucks  who  don't  surrender,  and  corralled 
all  the  women  and  children,  we  can  come  up  home  with 
our  batch.  Then  he'll  tell  'em  what'll  happen  next." 

The  march  veered  west  through  the  Dragoon  Moun- 
tains, in  the  hope  of  striking  the  up  trail  and  following 
'it  down.  But  heavy  rains  had  washed  out  the  signs, 
<so  the  course  was  continued  straight  south,  for  the 
Sierra  Madre  country  again.  The  Chiricahuas  were 
bound  to  be  there,  if  at  any  place. 

Throughout  the  month  of  December  the  pack-train 
job  was  the  same  tough  jab  as  that  when  General  Crook 
led  on,  in  1883 :  up  hill,  down  hill,  sliding,  scrambling, 
falling,  barking  shins  and  bruising  hoofs  and  feet, 
amidst  terrific  canyons,  thorny  brush,  sharp  rocks, 
towering  cliffs,  sun  and  rain,  heat  and  cold.  Tom  Horn 
scouted  far  ahead  with  a  few  picked  scouts ;  the  captain 
and  his  lieutenants  and  the  plucky  doctor,  and  old  Con- 

467 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

cepcion,  rode  keenly  with  the  eager  main  body;  and 
Jimmie,  assistant  chief  packer  in  place  of  Tom  Moore, 
hustled  his  toiling  pack-trains  of  fifty  mules  each,  so  as 
to  bring  them  into  camp  on  time  every  evening. 

Now  it  was  the  first  week  in  January.  There  was 
only  one  pack-train.  Captain  Crawford  had  ordered 
that  the  two  others  be  sent  back  to  the  border,  two 
hundred  miles,  with  Lieutenant  Faison,  the  commis- 
sary and  quarter-master,  for  supplies.  So  Jimmie  had 
detached  the  trains  of  "  Chileno  John "  and  Sam 
Wisser.  He  had  stayed. 

Chief  Scout  Horn  had  been  gone  two  weeks;  but 
he  kept  runners  out  with  news  from  him.  He  had 
discovered  fresh  sign:  Indian  and  cattle  trails;  cattle 
carcasses ;  and  a  recent  camp.  Ka-e-ten-na  and  Chato 
had  just  come  in.  They  brought  word  for  Captain 
Crawford  to  push  on,  and  join  the  advance.  Tom 
would  be  waiting — he  knew  that  the  Chiricahuas  were 
yonder  before  him. 

The  captain  sent  for  Jimmie. 

"  We  must  reduce  our  packs  again/'  he  said,  "  for 
a  forced  march.  You  will  pack  four  of  your  strongest 
mules  with  twelve  days'  rations  for  eighty  men.  The 
personal  outfit  will  be  cut  down  to  one  blanket  for  each 
man.  Take  the  shoes  off  the  mules,  to  avoid  noise. 
The  rest  of  the  outfit  will  be  left  here,  under  guard 
of  those  men  who  are  unable  to  travel.  Which  of  your 
packers  have  you  in  mind,  to  go  on  ?  " 

"  /Jimmie  Dunn,  captain,"  smiled  Jimmie. 

"  It's  afoot,  you  know — and  probably  night 
inarches.  Will  your  leg  stand  it  ?  " 


ON  THE  JOB  WITH  CAPTAIN  CRAWFORD 

"  Will  we  strike  the  hostiles,  captain?" 

"  Sure." 

"  That's  all  my  leg  needs,  to  lengthen  it  out,  then," 
laughed  Jimmie. 

He  felt  that  he  was  as  fit  as  Captain  Crawford. 
The  captain  looked  badly.  So  did  the  doctor ;  and  old 
Concepcion  the  interpreter  was  about  done. 

The  scouts  seemed  unusually  solemn,  as  if  the  report 
by  Chato  and  Ka-e-ten-na  had  much  impressed  them. 
They  proceeded  to  make  medicine.  In  the  light  of  a 
small  fire  old  No-wa-ze-ta  the  medicine  man  unrolled 
the  strip  of  sacred  buckskin  that  he  carried;  one  by 
one  the  scouts  kneeled  before  him;  he  mumbled  over 
them  and  held  the  sacred  buckskin  to  their  lips.  After 
that  they  held  a  council. 

"  Some  of  the  soldiers  chiefs  at  Bowie  say  maybe 
your  Chiricahua  will  not  fight,"  said  Jimmie,  sitting 
beside  Chato,  in  a  blanket,  and  watching.  "  They  say 
maybe  you  will  pretend  to  fight,  but  all  the  time  you 
will  be  sending  word  to  Geronimo  to  keep  away." 

"That  is  not  true,"  declared  Chato.  "We  will 
fight.  We  are  ready." 

About  midnight  camp  was  broken.  Through  the 
cold  and  the  darkness  Chato  and  Ka-e-ten-na  guided. 
Each  officer  and  man  was  in  moccasins  and  packed  his 
own  blanket.  Jimmie  drove  the  four  mules. 

About  noon  the  signs  mentioned  by  Tom  Horn  were 
found :  a  trail,  and  the  bodies  of  butchered  cattle.  That 
evening  Ka-e-ten-na  pointed  ahead. 

"  Espinosa  del  Diablo,"  he  said.  "  Maybe  we  cross. 
Very  bad  country." 

209 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

Espinosa  del  Diablo  was  Spanish  for  Devil's  Back- 
bone— a  high  mass  of  jagged  ridges. 

Early  in  the  morning  two  more  of  Tom  Horn's 
scouts  came  in.  The  light  of  Indian  camp-fires  had 
been  sighted,  reflected  in  the  sky,  and  Chief  Scout  Horn 
urged  the  captain  to  hurry. 

The  command  made  a  short  march,  rested  until 
late  afternoon,  and  started  on  again,  to  march  by  night. 
The  country  steadily  grew  worse,  with  deep,  dark  can- 
yons, steep  rocky  hills,  heavy  brush,  and  a  river  which 
was  constantly  being  forded.  Moccasins  were  soaked 
and  soon  cut  to  bits. 

From  now  on,  the  camps  were  not  ordered  until 
midnight.  Only  small  fires  of  dry  wood  were  per- 
mitted ;  and  under  one  thin  blanket  apiece  nobody  was 
able  to  sleep,  before  the  sun  rose.  In  fact,  it  was  as 
miserable  a  time  as  Jimmie  ever  had  experienced. 

More  messages  arrived  from  Tom  Horn.  He  had 
located  the  Chiricahuas — had  smelled  the  mescal  steam, 
had  seen  the  fires.  "  Hurry !  "  he  bade.  He  had  only 
two  scouts  with  him. 

Captain  Crawford  lengthened  the  marches,  to  all 
night  and  half-day  stretches.  Some  of  the  Apache 
scouts,  tough  as  they  were,  began  to  straggle  and 
limp.  Doctor  Davis  and  old  Concepcion  could  barely 
hobble. 

At  sunset  of  January  9,  "  Dutchy,"  another  of  the 
Horn  scouts,  appeared.  Dutchy  said  that  the  Chirica- 
hua  camp  was  but  twelve  miles  away.  He  and  Tom 
and  the  other  scout  had  reconnoitered  it — had  wit- 
nessed the  Chiricahuas  moving  about,  herding  their 

270 


ON  THE  JOB  WITH  CAPTAIN  CRAWFORD 

horses.  They  did  not  suspect  that  any  enemies  were 
near. 

Tom  and  the  other  scout  had  no  blankets,  and  noth- 
ing to  eat  but  a  little  meat — the  three  of  them  had  had 
nothing  else  for  ten  days;  now  he,  Dutchy,  was  to 
bring  the  captain  on  at  once,  while  the  two  watched  the 
Chiricahua  camp. 

Hurrah!  The  news  put  vim  into  the  command. 
The  end  of  the  marches  was  at  hand.  Evidently 
Geronimo  had  no  idea  he  could  be  found  away  in  here. 

Captain  Crawford  issued  rapid  orders. 

"  Twenty  minutes'  halt.  No  fires.  Let  the  men 
eat  bread  and  raw  bacon.  Examine  arms  carefully. 
Pack-mules  to  remain  here,  with  the  packer,  Doctor 
Davis  and  the  interpreter.  All  available  men  to  be 
ready  for  a  night  march,  and  attack  at  daylight." 

That  was  hard  luck  for  Jimmie — but  Doctor  Davis 
and  Concepcion  were  completely  exhausted,  and  some- 
body had  to  stay  with  the  mules,  to  move  them  on  in  a 
jiffy  when  sent  for. 

In  precisely  twenty  minutes  the  command  set  out, 
guided  by  Dutchy.  It  had  been  the  first  halt  in  six 
hours !  As  in  the  twilight  they  clambered  up  a  rocky, 
narrow  trail,  Jimmie  saw  that  Lieutenant  Maus  was 
helping  Captain  Crawford.  Even  at  that,  the  captain 
was  obliged  to  pause,  once  or  twice,  and  lean  upon  his 
carbine.  He  used  his  carbine  as  a  staff. 

"  His  indomitable  will  is  all  that  keeps  the  captain 
going,"  remarked  Doctor  Davis. 

"  Muy  hombre  (Much  man),"  groaned  old  Con- 
cepcion. 

271 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

The  darkness  closed  in  quickly.  It  was  a  bitter 
cold  night  Concepcion  and  the  mules  moaned,  the 
doctor's  teeth  chattered,  and  wrapped  in  his  single 
blanket  Jimmie  shivered.  The  brush  stirred  with  the 
stealthy  tread  of  prowling  animals,  a  leopard  shrieked, 
at  intervals,  and  the  still  air  stung. 

With  the  first  grayness  Jimmie  was  up,  to  unlim- 
ber,  and  listen.  The  attack  upon  the  Chiricahua  camp 
was  due.  The  moments  dragged.  The  doctor  and 
Concepcion  seemed  to  have  dropped  asleep  at  last,  but 
they,  also,  shivered  in  their  uneasy  slumber.  This  was 
the  coldest  period  of  the  night — just  at  dawn. 


XXVI 

FOES  OR  FRIENDS? 

GRADUALLY  the  shadows  upon  the  rocks  and  timber 
paled ;  and  then,  suddenly — hark ! 

Rifle-shots !  A  spatter — a  volley — more  and  faster, 
rolling  and  echoing  among  the  crags!  The  attack 
had  been  made.  Throwing  aside  their  blankets,  up 
sprang  the  doctor  and  Concepcion,  bewildered  and 
staggering,  but  awake. 

"  Fighting !  "  exclaimed  the  doctor.  "  They've 
struck  the  hostiles !  Good !  " 

"  Much  shooting,  much  shooting,"  stammered  old 
Concepcion. 

For  fifteen  minutes  the  rapid  firing  continued.  It 
lessened,  to  dropping,  scattered  shots,  and  in  about  an 
hour  ceased  altogether.  The  sun  rose. 

"  What'll  we  do  now  ?  "  demanded  the  doctor,  of 
Jimmie.  "  Crawford's  licked  them,  don't  you  think  ?  " 

"  Sounded  like  it,  doctor.  But  we'd  better  be 
watching  sharp.  Some  of  the  bronc's  are  liable  to  come 
this  way." 

There  was  another  period  of  anxious  waiting. 
They  took  turns  doing  look-out  duty  from  a  high  rock. 
With  Concepcion's  aid,  Jimmie  packed  the  mules. 
About  ten  o'clock  he  could  stand  the  suspense  no  longer. 

"  If  we  moved  on  we  probably  would  meet  the 
word  from  the  captain,  and  get  there  all  the  sooner 
with  the  packs,  doctor,"  he  proposed. 

18  278 


'GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"  All  right  But  Concepcion  and  I  can't  move 
fast" 

They  toiled  on,  following  the  trail.  At  noon  they 
met  Dutchy. 

"  The  soldier-captain  says  to  come,  with  mules  and 
medicine-man  and  Concepcion." 

"  Did  you  whip  the  Chiricahua?  "  queried  Jimmie. 

"  Yes.  We  ran  them  like  turkeys.  Capture 
everything — many  horses.  Chiricahua  get  away,  but 
they  send  word  they  will  talk  to-morrow/' 

The  doctor,  who  had  been  outstepped  by  Jimmie 
and  the  mules,  limped  eagerly  in,  with  poor  old  Con- 
cepcion in  his  wake. 

"  What's  the  news?     Have  they  got  Geronimo?  " 

"  Not  yet ;  but  they  captured  the  camp.  We're  to 
come  on  at  once,  doctor." 

"  How  far?    Any  of  our  men  hurt?" 

Jimmie  asked  Dutchy. 

"  Ten  miles.     Only  Chiricahua  hurt." 

"  I've  got  to  rest,"  panted  the  doctor.  "  Go  ahead 
with  your  mules.  We'll  follow.  Any  danger  ?  " 

"  No  danger,"  said  Dutchy,  answering  Jimmie. 
"  Chiricahua  hide  till  to-morrow." 

Dutchy  plainly  was  in  a  great  hurry  to  get  back — 
probably  to  share  in  the  plunder.  Jimmie  left  the 
doctor  and  Concepcion  to  come  as  best  they  could,  and 
again  hustled  his  mules  to  keep  up  with  Dutchy.  But 
that  proved  impossible.  The  trail  was  a  corker !  How 
in  the  world  Captain  Crawford  and  men  ever  had  trav- 
eled it  in  the  darkness  was  a  wonder. 

Dutchy  disappeared.     Only  the  trail  remained,  as 

274 


FOES  OR  FRIENDS? 

guide.  It  dipped  into  canyons,  and  wound  over  rocks 
and  steep  ridges.  Jimmie  wheezed  and  puffed  and 
sweat.  He  was  empty  from  chin  to  knees,  his  legs  were 
leaden,  he  ached  in  every  muscle.  His  mules  repeat- 
edly halted,  and  stood  heaving  and  straddled.  But  he 
pushed  on.  The  captain  had  sent  for  the  packs,  and 
orders  were  orders. 

The  sun  set.  He  had  been  half  a  day  covering 
these  few  miles !  A  damp  fog  was  descending,  cloak- 
ing the  mountains.  If  he  missed  the  trail !  No! 

Good!  He  saw  camp-fire  light,  glowing  on  the  low 
clouds.  At  last,  in  the  gathering  dark,  he  labored  into 
the  camp,  to  report. 

Everybody  there  was  asleep,  utterly  worn  out. 
Jimmie  peered  about,  and  wakened  Chato  and  got  a 
small  chunk  of  pony  meat  from  him;  unpacked  his 
mules  and  went  to  sleep  himself,  in  defiance  of  the 
cold  rain  that  was  falling.  He  had  done  his  stint. 
The  doctor  and  Concepcion  hardly  could  arrive  before 
morning. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  he  scarcely  had  closed  his 
throbbing  eyes  ere  he  was  aroused  by  excited  cries  and  * 
loud  shouts.  But  he  had  slept,  for  dawn  was  here — 
a  wet,  foggy  dawn.  Amidst  the  fog  the  scouts  were 
yelling  shrilly ;  upon  every  side  men  were  jumping  up, 
grabbing  guns,  and  staring  into  the  mist  before. 

"Look  out!  Somebody  comes!  Many  come!" 
were  shouting  the  scouts. 

Tom  Horn  was  up;  so  was  Lieutenant  Maus,  and 
Lieutenant  Shipp.  From  where  he  lay  exhausted,  by 
his  fire,  Captain  Crawford  directed  the  defense. 

275 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"  Be  careful !  They  may  be  some  of  Captain 
Davis 's  men/'  he  warned.  "  Don't  fire  on  them  till 
you  see  who  it  is." 

"  Wait  for  me  to  tell  you,  before  you  begin  shoot- 
ing," repeated  Tom  Horn,  to  the  scouts. 

He  started  to  climb  higher,  for  a  better  view. 
Lieutenant  Maus  and  Lieutenant  Shipp  were  running 
to  right  and  left,  to  take  command  of  their  companies. 
Down  below,  beyond  a  little  basin,  forms  were  dimly 
visible.  They  acted  like  soldiers. 

On  a  sudden  there  was  a  resounding  crash — the  red 
flare  of  a  volley  lighted  the  fog,  and  a  storm  of  bullets 
pelted  the  camp.  Jimmie,  wriggling  for  cover,  leveled 
his  gun,  for  the  scouts  were  replying. 

"Follow  me,  valientes  (braves),"  clearly  called 
a  voice,  in  good  Spanish,  from  the  basin  in  front ;  and 
a  line  of  figures  moved  swiftly  forward. 

"Wait!  Wait!  Cease  that  firing!  Stop  your 
scouts,  Horn !  "  shouted  Captain  Crawford,  on  his  feet. 
"  It's  a  mistake.  Those  are  Mexicans !  " 

And  so  they  were. 

Captain  Crawford  leaped  upon  a  rock,  to  wave  a 
white  handkerchief,  in  signal,  and  call. 

"  No  tiras !  Amigos,  amigos !  Americanos ! 
(Don't  fire !  Friends,  friends !  Americans !) ,"  chimed 
in  Lieutenant  Maus,  who  spoke  Spanish. 

He  ran  down,  into  the  open.  The  captain  followed 
him.  Under  the  lifting  mist  they  met  four  of  the 
Mexicans.  One  was  a  strapping  big  officer,  evidently 
the  commander;  another  was  a  slender  young  lieuten- 
ant; the  two  others  were  officers,  also.  The  line  of 

276 


FOES  OR  FRIENDS? 

men  behind  them  had  halted,  and  stood  uneasily.  They 
looked  like  a  wild  lot,  too. 

Chief  of  Scouts  Horn  advanced.  Lieutenant  Maus 
talked  earnestly  with  the  big  officer,  and  interpreted 
to  Captain  Crawford.  Tom  Horn  joined  them,  to 
assist. 

On  either  side  of  Jimmie  the  scouts  were  poking 
their  heads  above  the  rocks,  and  cramming  fresh  car- 
tridges into  their  Springfields.  The  carbine  breech- 
locks  snapped  briskly. 

"  Mexicanos ! "  hissed  Chato,  with  avid  face. 
"  Kill  them  all." 

"  You  and  I  will  kill  that  big  man,  first/'  answered 
Ka-e-ten-na. 

"See!"  bade  Dutchy. 

A  file  of  other  Mexican  soldiers  were  sneaking 
through  a  ravine,  to  flank  the  camp. 

Lieutenant  Maus  had  seen;  he  pointed,  and  pro- 
tested to  the  big  officer. 

"  Watch  those  Mexicans,  Shipp ! "  shouted  the 
captain. 

"  No  tiras,  no  tiras ! "  again  appealed  Lieutenant 
Maus,  this  time  to  the  scouts. 

"  No  tiras ! "  boomed  the  big  officer,  as  if  in  much 
alarm. 

"  Bang !  "  From  the  Mexicans  at  the  rear  sounded 
a  single  shot.  Instantly  the  group  in  the  basin  scat- 
tered, each  man  for  his  own  place.  The  Mexican  line 
came  on  at  a  trot,  firing,  loading  and  firing.  Tom 
Horn  was  left  for  a  moment  alone,  as  the  captain  and 
the  lieutenant  scurried  for  the  rocks. 

277 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

"  The  captain  is  killed !  "  shrieked  Chato,  at  him. 
"  Come  back ! "  He  and  Ka-e-ten-na  fired  together, 
and  the  big  Mexican  officer,  running,  threw  up  his 
arm,  and  hurling  his  rifle  far,  plunged  headlong. 

"  Give  it  to  'em,"  yelled  Tom,  running  also. 

"  Whang-g-g-g !  "  Everybody  shot.  The  slender 
Mexican  lieutenant  fell  riddled.  He  had  been  hit  thir- 
teen times!  The  two  other  Mexicans  were  behind  a 
tree;  the  scouts'  bullets  cut  the  tree  almost  down  and 
the  twain  crumpled  in  a  heap.  The  whole  Mexican  line 
melted  into  sprawled  figures,  some  lax  and  motionless, 
some  squirming  for  safety. 

Lieutenant  Maus  arrived,  panting. 

"  Head  off  those  fellows  on  the  right,"  he  rasped, 
to  Lieutenant  Shipp.  Away  darted  stripling  Shipp,  to 
prevent  the  flank  attack. 

"  Crawford's  dead — shot  in  the  brain !  "  gasped 
the  lieutenant  to  Jimmie.  "  He's  yonder,  behind  a 
rock.  Horn's  shot  in  the  arm.  Those  are  Mexican  ir- 
regulars. What  are  they  up  to?  But  they  began  it." 

The  scouts  were  still  firing  rapidly  on  every  mov- 
ing form.  The  Mexicans  were  now  hard  to  see. 

"  Give  me  orders  to  send  out  my  men  into  the  trees 
and  rocks  and  we  will  kill  every  Mexican!"  shouted 
Chato,  to  Tom  Horn. 

"  Don't  waste  bullets,"  cautioned  Tom,  id  Apache. 
"  Be  careful.  We  are  many  miles  from  more." 

"  We  will  use  the  Mexicans'  guns,"  retorted  Chato. 

"  Give  me  the  dead  captain's  gun  and  belt  and  I 
will  help  you  kill  Mexicans,"  spoke  a  new  voice. 
"  Make  me  your  prisoner  and  tell  me  to  fight." 

278 


FOES  OR  FRIENDS? 

It  was  old  Nana  the  Chiricahua  chief.  He  had 
somehow  tottered  in,  from  the  rear — he  was  ninety 
years  of  age  and  lame  from  a  broken  hip. 

"  I  fight  the  Americans  no  more,"  he  cackled.  "  But 
I  will  fight  the  Mexicans  any  time.  And  so  will  all 
my  people/ ' 

He  nodded  backward ;  they  looked,  and  there  were 
many  more  of  the  Chiricahua  hostiles,  at  a  short  dis- 
tance, peering  and  waiting.  Geronimo  mounted  upon 
a  boulder  and  yelled  across. 

"If  you  are  fighting  the  Mexicans,  tell  us  what 
to  do." 

That  was  an  odd  situation.  If  the  Chiricahuas 
had  attacked  the  camp  from  the  one  side  and  the 
Mexicans  from  the  other ! 

The  Mexicans  called,  where  they  were  concealed. 

"  Send  somebody  to  talk  with  us." 

Lieutenant  Maus  and  Tom  Horn  advanced  again. 
Four  of  the  Mexicans  met  them  half-way.  One  of  the 
Mexicans  was  crying.  His  brother  was  the  slender 
young  lieutenant  who  had  been  riddled. 

Lieutenant  Maus  returned  and  talked  with  Lieuten- 
ant Shipp.  The  Mexicans  claimed  that  they  had  made 
a  mistake.  They  had  lost  all  their  officers — among 
them  Major  Corredor,  who  was  the  big  man,  and,  they 
declared,  "the  bravest  man  that  ever  lived."  They 
asked  permission  to  remove  their  dead. 

Lieutenant  Maus  accompanied  each  body  into  the 
Mexican  lines.  The  Mexicans  seemed  to  be  afraid 
of  the  scouts. 

Now  noon  was  at  hand,  but  instead  of  withdrawing, 

279 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

the  Mexicans  had  taken  a  strong  position  that  threat- 
ened the  camp.  Many  of  them  were  Tarahumari  In- 
dians, a  Mexican  tribe  hostile  to  all  Americans  and 
Apaches. 

The  camp  was  short  of  food  and  ammunition. 
Several  of  the  scouts  had  been  wounded,  one  of  them 
severely.  Tom  Horn's  arm  hung  useless.  Captain 
Crawford  lay  underneath  a  blanket,  with  a  bandanna 
handkerchief  spread  over  his  face.  A  piece  of  his 
forehead  and  a  portion  of  his  brain  had  been  shot  out, 
but  he  still  breathed. 

Jimmie  at  last  reported  his  arrival  to  Lieutenant 
Shipp. 

"  Yes,  I've  seen  you,"  answered  the  lieutenant. 
"  You  did  well,  but,"  he  frankly  added,  "  we're  all  in 
a  bad  fix.  If  there's  war  between  the  United  States 
and  Mexico,  our  pack-trains  are  likely  to  be  captured ; 
and  while  we're  fighting  our  way  north,  carrying  Cap- 
tain Crawford,  there'll  be  nothing  to  prevent  the  scouts 
from  joining  the  other  Chiricahuas  and  all  together 
making  off  to  do  as  they  please.  Where's  the  doctor? 
Lieutenant  Maus  has  been  asking  for  him." 

Doctor  Davis  and  Concepcion  came  in,  agog  to 
know  what  had  occurred.  They  had  heard  the  firing, 
again,  and  had  hidden  until  it  had  stopped. 

The  doctor  attended  to  the  captain,  and  reported 
that  he  could  not  live  long.  The  other  wounded  were 
patched  up.  The  Mexicans  needed  a  doctor,  and  he 
went  over  to  them,  as  was  his  duty. 

He  was  gone  some  time.  On  his  return  he  said  that 
the  Mexicans  had  many  killed  and  wounded,  but  that 

280 


FOES  OR  FRIENDS? 

he  had  been  badly  treated,  with  scowls  and  insulting 
language. 

Some  of  the  Geronimo  Chiricahuas  were  in  sight, 
waiting.  The  officers  did  not  think  it  advisable  to  hold 
a  council  with  them  until  the  Mexicans  had  been  dis- 
posed of.  Only  old  Nana  was  still  tottering  about, 
cackling  among  the  scouts.  He  was  harmless. 

"  Give  us  the  orders,  and  we  will  clean  the  earth 
of  those  Mexicans,"  implored  Chato  and  Ka-e-ten-na, 
of  Tom  Horn.  "  Then  we  will  all  have  plenty  of 
pinole  (which  was  meal)  and  bullets/' 

Another  cold,  rainy  night  settled  down  early. 
Lieutenant  Maus  directed  that  camp  be  broken  at  day- 
light, for  the  march  north.  Captain  Crawford  should 
be  moved  at  once,  and  the  pack-train  that  had  been  left 
must  be  protected.  After  that,  the  Chiricahuas  who 
did  not  surrender  would  be  hunted  again. 

In  the  morning,  while  a  litter  of  reeds  from  the 
river  was  being  made,  for  carrying  the  captain,  old 
Concepcion,  who  had  been  rounding  up  some  ponies, 
called  that  the  Mexicans  had  him  and  demanded  a  talk 
with  the  commanding  officer. 

Lieutenant  Maus  again  met  a  squad.  They  led 
him  aside,  behind  some  rocks,  as  if  to  get  shelter  from 
the  rain — and  presently  a  Mexican  brought  a  note  from 
him.  The  note  stated  that  he,  too,  was  a  prisoner,  until 
he  could  show  papers  to  prove  that  he  had  permission 
to  "  invade "  Mexico.  The  Mexicans  insisted  also 
upon  a  supply  of  food,  and  mules  for  their  wounded. 

Lieutenant  Shipp  and  Chief  Scout  Horn  conferred 
together.  The  Mexican  messenger  was  told  to  get 

281 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

four  or  five  men  and  return  for  the  mules  and  rations. 
Lieutenant  Shipp  slipped  around  with  his  company  of 
scouts,  to  a  position  where  he  might  pour  a  deadly 
fire  into  the  Mexican  lines.  When  the  five  Mexicans 
returned  to  the  camp,  for  the  mules  and  rations,  they 
were  suddenly  ringed  about  with  carbine  muzzles. 

"  Now/'  spoke  Chief  Scout  Horn,  "  you  call  to 
your  comrades.  Tell  them  that  if  our  lieutenant  is  not 
released  immediately,  you  will  all  be  killed !  " 

"  Hi !  "  cackled  old  Nana.  "  That  is  good.  Yes, 
you  will  be  killed.  But  we  will  not  kill  you  quick. 
We  will  shoot  you  in  many  places,  first." 

Carbine  hammers  clicked.  Young  Lieutenant 
Shipp's  scouts  were  crouched  and  aiming,  ready.  All 
the  scouts  were  yelling,  while  the  five  Mexicans,  call- 
ing piteously,  pleaded  that  the  lieutenant  be  released. 

That,  as  Tom  Horn  said,  "  ended  the  row."  Here 
came  the  lieutenant,  angry  but  safe.  The  five  prisoners 
were  allowed  to  scuttle  back. 

"  They're  an  ugly  lot,"  announced  the  lieutenant. 
"  They  have  over  thirty  dead  and  a  dozen  wounded. 
Concepcion  is  still  held.  I've  agreed  to  let  them  have 
six  mules  in  exchange,  so  they  can  pull  out." 

The  mules  were  Mexican  mules,  but  the  lieutenant 
required  a  receipt  for  them,  and  tihe  Mexican  govern- 
ment paid  the  value  of  them  to  the  Unifted  States. 

The  Mexicans  finally  withdrew.  Scouts  were  sent 
out,  on  their  trail,  to  watch  them  to  a  safe  distance. 
The  next  morning,  January  13,  camp  was  broken. 

Captain  Crawford  was  living,  but  unconscious. 
Four  of  the  scouts  carried  him  in  the  litter.  The  trail 

282 


FOES  OR  FRIENDS? 

was  too  rough  and  narrow  for  any  other  method. 
The  Geronimo  Chiricahuas  had  disappeared,  but  they 
stayed  near.  This  evening  Geronimo  sent  an  old  squaw 
into  the  new  camp.  He  requested  the  talk  that  had 
been  agreed  upon  for  the  day  when  the  Mexicans  had 
interrupted. 

In  the  morning  Lieutenant  Maus  took  Tom  Horn, 
Ka-e-ten-na,  Dutchy,  and  two  or  three  other  scouts, 
and,  all  unarmed,  met  Geronimo  in  council. 

"  Why  did  you  come  down  in  here,  where  I  thought 
white  men  could  not  come?"  demanded  Geronimo, 
direct. 

"  I  came  down  to  capture  or  destroy  you  and  your 
band/'  answered  the  weary  Lieutenant  Maus,  just  as 
direct. 

"  I  see  you  speak  the  truth,"  replied  Geronimo.  He 
shook  hands,  sent  a  long  talk,  of  various  complaints, 
to  "  Cluke,"  and  engaged  to  meet  the  general  at  the 
border  when  the  March  moon  was  full. 

"Do  you  think  he  will  do  it,  Chato?"  queried 
Jimmie. 

"  Yes.  Ka-e-ten-na  has  told  him  what  a  big  people 
the  Americans  are.  Besides,  Geronimo  is  sending  in 
old  Nana,  and  some  women.  Chihuahua  wants  to 
come  in.  Juh  has  been  killed  by  the  Mexicans.  Pretty 
soon  Geronimo  will  have  no  one  left." 

Nana  arrived,  again,  and  Geronimo's  wife,  and  one 
of  Nah-che's  wives,  and  another  Chiricahua,  and  sev- 
eral children.  Lieutenant  Maus  divided  his  few 
rations  with  the  Geronimo  band,  and  proceeded.  Mat- 
ters looked  better. 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

But  that  was  a  long,  sorrowful  march,  carrying- 
Captain  Crawford  through  the  three  hundred  miles  of 
mountains  and  rain.  He  lived,  unconscious,  for  five 
days — he  had  an  "  indomitable  will,"  as  had  said  Doctor 
Davis.  Without  having  spoken  a  word  he  died  on 
January  17.  Of  course  there  was  no  thought  of  leav- 
ing him  behind,  in  the  wilds,  so  his  body  was  still 
carried  on,  in  the  litter. 

He  was  buried  at  the  little  Mexican  town  of  Nacori, 
near  the  border,  until  he  might  be  reburied  in  the 
United  States.  The  mayor  of  the  town  promised  to 
have  the  grave  guarded. 

The  news  of  the  expedition  was  telegraphed  by 
helio  to  Bowie.  Scout  runners  already  had  been  dis- 
patched ahead. 

Almost  the  first  person  encountered  by  Jimmie, 
when  he  rode  stiffly  into  Bowie,  on  the  third  of  Feb- 
ruary, was  Micky  the  Red-head,  as  lively  as  ever,  after 
his  own  long  trip  with  the  Captain  Davis  column. 

"  Where  is  Geronimo,  Cheemie?  "  hailed  Micky. 

"  He  will  come." 

"  Well,  if  he  doesn't,  we  will  go  get  him,"  asserted 
Micky.  "  We  will  bring  him  back  little  by  little.  You 
look  as  though  you  had  been  a  long  way,  Cheemie." 

"  More  than  a  thousand  miles,"  laughed  Jimmie. 
And  he  felt  it. 

"  That's  enough  for  you."  declared  Chief  Packer 
Tom  Moore,  when  Jimmie  reported.  "  You  stick 
around,  now,  and  take  things  easy." 

The  post  was  still  talking  of  Captain  Crawford's 
one  march  of  eighteen  hours  with  only  the  twenty  min- 

284 


FOES  OR  FRIENDS? 

utes'  halt;  and  of  his  tragic  death,  at  the  end,  when 
he  had  won  his  goal. 

Lieutenant  Maus,  with  Lieutenant  Faison  and  Lieu- 
tenant Shipp,  Tom  Horn  and  the  scouts,  was  ordered 
back  below  the  border,  to  camp  until  the  Chiricahaus 
signalled  for  the  talk. 

Jimmie  was  laid  up  with  his  leg,  for  several  weeks. 
And  at  Bowie  the  general  waited  impatiently  for  the 
news  from  the  lieutenant's  camp, 


XXVII 

THE  WORST  ENEMY  OF  ALL 

THE  last  week  of  March  had  opened.  The  moon 
was  near  the  full.  Tom  Moore,  walking  briskly,  caught 
Jimmie  bossing  the  repairs  on  some  aparejos,  out  at  the 
Bowie  mule  sheds. 

"Word's  come,"  rapped  Tom.  "I'm  to  take  a 
pack-train  down  to  Maus  to-morrow,  and  the  general 
will  follow." 

"  Is  Geronimo  there,  Tom  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know ;  but  he's  promised  to  be  there  in 
four  days.  Anyhow,  we're  to  pack  a  lot  of  rations; 
and  looks  like  we're  to  feed  some  Injuns  and  fetch  'em 
back.  Do  you  want  to  go  'long  and  see  the  finish  ?  " 

"  Sure  thing,  Tom." 

"  Bueno !  I  thought  you  would,  but  I  can  use  some- 
body else  if  you're  not  fit.  All  right,  then.  We'll  pull 
out  at  eight  o'clock." 

The  Lieutenant  Maus  command  had  been  camped 
one  hundred  miles  south  of  Bowie,  or  ten  miles  below 
the  border.  But  Geronimo  had  refused  to  meet  the  gen- 
eral there,  and  had  appointed  the  Canon  de  los  Embu- 
dos  (Funnels  Canyon),  twelve  miles  below  the  border 
and  itwenty  miles  west,  where  the  country  was  rougher. 

Alchise,  Ka-e-ten-na,  and  Tony  Besias  and  another 
official  interpreter  went  with  the  pack  outfit.  There 
were  two  old  Chiricahua  squaws,  also,  from  the  bunch 
who  had  been  taken  prisoners  at  the  Geronimo  rancheria 

286 


THE  WORST  ENEMY  OF  ALL 

last  January.  They,  and  Alchise  and  Ka-e-ten-na  were 
counted  upon  to  spread  "  good  talk  "  among  the  Chiri- 
cahuas.  Mayor  Strauss,  of  Tucson,  who  had  been  at 
Bowie  discussing  affairs  with  the  general,  joined  by 
special  permission. 

The  general  overhauled  the  pack-train  on  the  second 
day  out.  He  and  his  staff,  including  Major  Bourke 
and  Captain  C.  S.  Roberts,  of  the  Judge- Advocate  De- 
partment, were  in  an  ambulance.  Captain  Roberts  had 
brought  his  ten-year-old  son,  Charley,  who  was  seeing 
army  life  in  the  Southwest;  and  there  was  an  escort 
of  scouts,  with  the  inevitable  Micky  as  scout  sergeant. 

Before  the  Lieutenant  Maus  camp  was  reached,  the 
company  had  grown  larger.  Two  photographers 
named  Fly  and  Chase  had  joined;  and  a  Mexican,  Jose 
Maria  Yaskes,  who  had  lived  with  the  Chiricahuas ;  and 
several  ranchers  and  cow-boys. 

"  All  want  to  see  Geronimo — but  I  guess  the  Gray 
Fox  wants  to  see  him  worst  of  anybody,"  laughed 
Micky. 

On  the  morning  of  March  25  Alchise  and  Ka-e- 
ten-na  sent  up  a  smoke  signal,  to  tell  the  camp  and 
Geronimo  that  the  general  was  near.  Lieutenant 
Shipp,  Chato  and  two  others  rode  out  to  guide  the 
detachment  in. 

The  Maus  camp  was  well  located,  upon  a  mesa  com- 
manding water  and  grass,  in  the  canyon.  Geronimo's 
camp  was  just  as  strongly  located,  a  half  mile  away — 
on  the  top  of  a  lava  cone  surrounded  by  bristly  gulches. 

The  packers  already  in  camp  thought  that  there 
would  be  no  trouble.  Geronimo  had  been  over  every 

287 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

day,  to  ask  when  the  general  was  expected  for  the 
talk;  Chihuahua  had  sent  word  that  he  was  prepared 
to  surrender  at  any  time,  and  do  exactly  as  the  general 
told  him  to  do. 

"  Chihuahua  will  leave  Geronimo ;  Nana  has  left 
Geronimo ;  soon  he  will  have  nobody,"  Chato  repeated. 
"  Geronimo  and  Chihuahua  are  living  separate  now. 
Nana  is  too  old  to  run  any  more." 

After  the  general  had  lunched,  there  was  sudden 
exclaiming  and  pointing.  A  large  party  of  Chiricahuas 
were  descending  from  their  cone. 

"Geronimo!" 

"  Here  comes  the  old  rascal !  " 

The  Chiricahuas  rode  on,  up  the  canyon,  and  Chief 
of  Scouts  Horn  met  them.  He  returned,  and  reported. 

"  Geronimo  says  he  will  talk  with  the  general." 

Still,  Geronimo  did  not  enter  the  camp.  He  halted 
a  short  distance  out,  amid  some  white-barked  syca- 
mores and  shaggy  cottonwoods,  near  the  river.  The 
general  and  officers  advanced,  to  hold  the  talk,  and  a 
crowd  followed,  eager  to  hear. 

There  were  the  general,  Lieutenant  Maus,  Lieuten- 
ant Shipp  and  Lieutenant  Faison;  Surgeon  Davis  (who 
had  recovered  from  his  hard  trip)  ;  Captain  Roberts 
and  young  Charley  Roberts;  Major  Bourke;  Chief 
Packer  Tom  Moore,  ex- Assistant  Jimmie,  Pack-masters 
H.  W.  Daly  and  Harvey  Carlisle,  Packers  Shaw  and 
Foster ;  Mayor  Strauss,  of  Tucson ;  Photographers  Fly 
and  Chase;  Tony  Besias,  old  Concepcion,  Jose  Maria 
Yaskes,  and  other  interpreters ;  Chief  Scout  Tom  Horn, 
Sergeant  Micky  Free,  Alchise,  Ka-e-ten-na,  Chato,  and 

288 


THE  WORST  ENEMY  OF  ALL 

others  of  the  scout  companies;  and  even  a  little  boy 
named  Howell  who  had  traveled  along  from  a  ranch 
thirty  miles  away. 

Chihuahua  was  here,  smiling  and  good-natured. 
So  was  Nah-che — not  smiling,  but  on  the  contrary 
looking  grim  and  anxious.  Jimmie  saw  Porico,  or 
White  Horse,  Geronimo's  brother.  No  squaws  had 
come  over,  and  only  a  few  of  the  warriors  sat  together ; 
the  majority  were  scattered,  well  armed,  wearing  two 
cartridge-belts,  and  prepared  to  fight  and  flee,  if  an 
attempt  were  made  to  seize  them. 

Everybody  except  the  general,  Chihuahua  and 
Micky  appeared  to  be  rather  on  edge.  And  no  won- 
der. After  all  these  months  of  worry  and  work,  grow- 
ing old  chasing  Geronimo  on  the  heart-breaking  trails, 
was  this  the  end  at  last?  Jimmie  suddenly  felt  old, 
himself.  How  far  had  he  trailed  the  fighting  Apaches  ? 
Two  thousand  miles,  at  least ! 

"  Ka-e-ten-na  says  the  Chiricahua  will  shoot  if  we 
try  to  hold  Geronimo,"  whispered  Micky.  "  They 
made  Maus  promise  that  the  Gray  Fox  would  bring  no 
soldiers  down.  That  is  bad." 

"  But  the  scouts  will  fight." 

"  Yes,  they  will  fight,"  nodded  Micky. 

Geronimo  was  speaking,  as  he  sat  twisting  a  strand 
of  buckskin  in  his  nervous  hands. 

"  Everybody  on  the  reservation  was  unfriendly  to 
me.  Chato  and  Micky  Free  stirred  up  trouble  against 
me ;  they  lied  about  me  to  the  soldier-captain  Davis,  and 
he  spread  the  lies.  The  papers  told  bad  stories  on  me. 
They  said  that  I  ought  to  be  arrested  and  hung  up. 

19  280 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

I  don't  want  any  more  of  that  talk.  Why  don't  you 
speak  to  me  and  look  with  a  pleasant  face?  What  is 
the  matter,  that  you  don't  smile  on  me  ?  Why  did  you 
give  orders  to  have  me  put  in  prison?  I  had  tried 
to  do  right.  Remember  that  I  sent  you  word  I  would 
come  from  a  long  distance  to  speak  with  you  here,  and 
you  see  me  now.  If  I  thought  bad  or  had  done  bad, 
I  would  not  have  come." 

General  Crook  made  no  bones  about  answering. 

"  I  gave  no  orders  to  have  you  arrested.  If  you 
left  the  reservation  because  you  were  afraid,  why  did 
you  sneak  all  over  the  country  killing  innocent  people 
and  stealing  horses  ?  Your  story  is  all  bosh.  You  sent 
up  your  people  to  kill  Chato  and  Lieutenant  Davis. 
Everything  that  you  did  on  the  reservation  is  known. 
There  is  no  use  in  your  trying  to  talk  nonsense.  I  am 
no  child.  You  promised  me  in  the  Sierra  Madre  that 
the  peace  should  last,  and  you  have  lied.  How  do  I 
know  but  that  you  are  lying  now,  when  you  say  you 
want  peace?  Have  I  ever  lied  to  you?  You  must 
make  up  your  mind  either  to  surrender  or  to  stay  out  on 
the  warpath.  If  you  stay  out,  I  will  keep  after  you  and 
kill  every  one  of  you  if  it  takes  fifty  years.  I  have 
said  all  I  have  to  say.  You  had  better  think,  to-night, 
and  let  me  know  in  the  morning." 

The  perspiration  had  burst  out  upon  Geronimo's 
face  and  hands.  He  would  have  said  more,  but  the 
general  arose,  as  signal  that  the  talk  was  at  an  end. 
Only  the  two  photographers  were  happy ;  they  had  taken 
a  number  of  excellent  pictures. 

This  evening  and  night  the  two  camps  remained 

290 


"WHY  DON'T  YOU  SPEAK  TO  ME  AND  LOOK  WITH  A  PLEASANT  FACE? 


THE  WORST  ENEMY  OF  ALL 

apart.  In  the  Maus  camp  there  was  a  great  deal  of  dis- 
cussion. Nobody  might  yet  foresee  what  the  Chirica- 
huas  under  Geronimo  would  do. 

"  A  thousand  troops  couldn't  get  those  bronc's, 
where  they're  located,"  asserted  Tom  Moore.  "  They'd 
scatter  like  quail  and  be  off  into  Mexico,  at  first  sign  of 
trouble.  Anyhow,  Maus  agreed  not  to  attack  'em,  and 
while  the  general  mightn't  have  made  any  such  agree- 
ment himself,  he's  bound  to  stick  by  it." 

'  You  and  I  will  go  over  in  the  morning,  Cheemie," 
said  Micky.  "  We  will  see  for  ourselves." 

So  they  did.  Major  Bourke,  Mayor  Strauss,  of 
Tucson,  Pack-master  Carlisle  and  others  likewise  went. 
It  was  indeed  a  strong  position,  well  up  among  broken 
lava,  with  every  jacal  or  hut  defended  by  a  cactus  fence. 
A  number  of  jagged  rifts  had  to  be  crossed,  and  there 
were  ravines  leading  away. 

No  army  officer,  Major  Bourke  alleged,  could  have 
chosen  a  better  situation  or  made  more  of  it. 

Geronimo  and  his  warriors  were  in  council,  and 
could  not  be  approached.  None  of  the  Chiricahuas 
would  talk ;  even  Nah-da-ste  declined  to  speak  to  Jim- 
mie,  but  hid  her  face. 

Young  Charley  Roberts  was  the  only  visitor  who 
could  attract  attention.  The  little  girls  followed  him 
around,  giggling,  and  passing  compliments  upon  him. 
It  reminded  Jimmie  of  the  time,  long  ago,  when  he  had 
been  giggled  at  in  a  Chiricahua  camp. 

Nothing  happened  this  day.  Matters  looked  bad. 
In  the  morning  Alchise  and  Ka-e-ten-na  came  into 
camp.  They  had  been  spending  their  time  in  the  Geron- 

291 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

imo  camp,  to  spread  peace  talk.  Ka-e-ten-na  was  to 
tell  the  Chiricahuas  of  the  sights  that  he  had  seen  in 
San  Francisco. 

They  brought  word  from  Chihuahua  that  whether 
Geronimo  decided  to  surrender,  or  not,  he  himself 
would  appear  with  all  his  band  at  noon,  and  do  as 
"  Cluke  "  said  to  do. 

At  noon  Chihuahua  appeared.  Geronimo  and  Nah- 
che  and  old  Nana  were  with  him.  Geronimo's  face 
was  blackened,  as  sign  of  mourning.  The  general 
talked  with  them,  again,  at  the  same  place  as  before. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Cluke,"  said  Chihuahua. 
"  I  am  now  in  your  hands.  You  may  do  as  you  please 
with  me.  I  am  going  over  to  stay  with  you  in  your 
camp." 

"  What  have  you  decided?"  asked  the  general,  of 
Geronimo. 

"  My  people  are  afraid  to  go  with  you,  for  fear 
they  will  be  punished.  They  do  not  want  to  be  pun- 
ished. We  will  go  with  you  if  we  are  allowed  to 
live  as  before." 

"  That  is  all  nonsense,"  retorted  the  general.  "  I  do 
not  trust  you  any  more.  If  you  go  with  me,  you  must 
understand  that  you  all  will  be  put  in  the  guard-house 
until  Washington  tells  me  what  to  do  with  you." 

"  How  long  will  we  be  kept  prisoners?  " 

"  You  will  be  sent  away,  like  Ka-e-ten-na  was. 
That  cured  Ka-e-ten-na  and  made  him  good.  It  will 
make  you  good,  because  it  will  change  your  hearts.  You 
say  that  lies  are  told  about  you  on  the  reservation.  If 
you  are  sent  away,  there  will  be  no  lies." 

292 


THE  WORST  ENEMY  OF  ALL 

"  How  long  will  we  be  sent  away  ?  " 

"  Maybe  one  year,  maybe  two  years.  You  may 
take  your  families  with  you.  Only  Nana  shall  stay ;  he 
is  too  old  to  make  trouble." 

Geronimo  shifted  uneasily,  and  gazed  appealingly 
around. 

"  I  will  talk  no  more/'  stated  the  general.  "  To- 
morrow morning  I  shall  go  back  to  Fort  Bowie.  If 
you  decide  to  stay  away,  you  will  not  be  safe  anywhere 
in  Mexico.  You  cannot  hide  from  me.  This  you 
already  know. 

"  We  will  march  to  Fort  Bowie,  and  there  you  may 
send  us  away,  as  you  say,"  spoke  Geronimo  desper- 
ately. "  But  we  must  march  freely,  by  ourselves.  I 
cannot  make  my  men  give  up  their  guns,  until  they  are 
in  the  fort  where  you  will  protect  them.  There  are 
bad  people  along  the  way  who  would  kill  us.  Your 
young  soldier-captains  might  not  be  able  to  control 
their  scouts,  and  the  scouts  would  kill  us.  I  want  you 
to  promise  that  we  shall  not  be  made  prisoners  until 
we  arrive  at  Fort  Bowie.  Otherwise,  I  cannot  per- 
suade my  men,  and  there  will  be  war." 

The  general  eyed  him  fixedly. 

"  It  is  agreed,"  he  said. 

Geronimo  was  much  relieved,  and  shook  hands 
with  him. 

"  Geronimo  speaks  the  truth,"  declared  Ka-e-ten-na, 
that  evening.  "If  the  general  had  not  agreed,  there 
would  have  been  war.  The  Chiricahua  were  ready  to 
fight  and  run  away.  But  they  would  rather  be  put  in 
prison  a  little  while,  and  see  such  things  as  I  have  seen." 

293 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

Orders  were  given  to  be  prepared  to  move  in  the 
morning.  The  general  was  going  on  ahead,  to  Bowie, 
and  get  instructions  from  General  Sheridan  at  Wash- 
ington; Lieutenant  Maus  was  to  follow,  with  the 
Chiricahuas. 

That  night  there  seemed  to  be  a  wild  time  in  the 
Geronimo  camp,  half  a  mile  distant.  Gun  shots  could 
be  heard,  and  shrill  whoops.  During  breakfast  in  the 
morning  there  were  many  rumors.  Jimmie  got  the 
truth  from  Micky. 

"  Much  whiskey  in  the  Chiricahua  camp,"  said 
Micky,  with  shrug  of  shoulders.  "  Ranch  man  send  it 
in,  and  sell  at  one  dollar  a  gallon.  Geronimo  drunk, 
many  others  drunk." 

The  general,  when  he  rode  by,  looked  worried. 
But  he  had  to  reach  the  telegraph  at  Fort  Bowie  as 
quickly  as  possible.  It  was  understood  that  he  had 
ordered  Lieutenant  Maus  to  destroy  all  the  whiskey  that 
could  be  found,  and  to  hasten  on  with  the  Chiricahuas. 

So  the  camp  was  broken,  and  moved  on  the  back 
trail,  with  directions  to  halt  at  ten  miles,  and  wait. 
The  lieutenant  stayed  behind  with  Concepcion  the  in- 
terpreter, to  wait  for  the  Geronimo  camp  to  move. 

In  the  afternoon  he  arrived  at  the  halting  place. 
The  Chiricahuas  were  following,  but  Geronimo  had 
told  him  not  to  hang  around  or  he  might  be  killed  by 
some  of  the  drunken  warriors. 

Chihuahua  sent  for  Chief  of  Scouts  Horn,  and 
asked  that  he  and  all  his  band  be  put  under  guard. 

"I  don't  like  that,  Cheemie,"  uttered  Micky. 
"  When  Chihuahua  does  such  a  thing,  he  sees  ahead. 

m 


THE  WORST  ENEMY  OF  ALL 

He  is  afraid  of  what  will  happen  if  his  people  get  the 
whiskey,  too." 

Geronimo  made  camp  again  about  half  a  mile  away, 
as  before,  and  in  a  strong  position.  Everybody  was 
ordered  to  keep  away  from  it,  so  as  to  avoid  trouble; 
but  the  lieutenant  took  Ka-e-ten-na  and  rode  over. 

When  they  returned,  Ka-e-ten-na  reported  that 
Geronimo  was  still  drunk,  and  he  and  another  chief 
were  riding  around  on  one  mule;  and  that  Nah-che 
had  shot  his  wife. 

Now  the  ranch  which  had  supplied  the  whiskey 
was  near.  Lieutenant  Shipp  took  a  detail  over,  to 
search  the  ranch  and  destroy  the  liquor. 

Tom  Moore,  the  old  frontiersman,  swore  vigor- 
ously. 

"  It's  sure  a  dog-gone  shame  that  for  a  few  dirty 
dollars  any  man  will  throw  the  whole  country  open 
again  to  an  Injun  war.  For  that's  what  it  means,  if 
those  Chiricahuas  lose  their  heads.  When  whiskey 
gets  in,  the  brains  go  out." 

Concepcion  said  that  the  whiskey  seller  had  been 
filling  the  Chiricahuas  with  lies  also :  he  had  told  them 
that  they  were  to  be  killed  as  soon  as  they  reached 
Bowie.  He  did  this,  so  that  they  would  stay  out  and 
he  might  sell  them  more  whiskey. 

However,  the  night  quieted  the  Chiricahuas  in  their 
camp.  The  lieutenant  sent  over,  once,  to  investigate. 
The  warriors  were  said  to  be  sleeping. 

But  in  the  morning,  which  was  March  29,  while 
Jimmie  was  pulling  on  his  boots  before  breakfast,  he 
saw  the  lieutenant  dash  away,  with  Ka-e-ten-na,  in  the 

295 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

direction  of  Geronimo's  camp.  In  about  an  hour  they 
returned.  The  lieutenant  stopped  here  where  Tom 
Moore  was  overseeing  the  unpacking  of  the  pack-trains, 
for  the  day's  march.  He  looked  oddly  haggard,  but 
spoke  with  a  hard,  quick  accent. 

"  Geronimo,  Nah-che  and  twenty  men  and  thirteen 
women  are  gone.  I'll  require  a  pack-train  and  several 
of  your  best  men,  to  follow  them  with.  You  can  re- 
port to  Shipp.  Faison  will  go  on  to  Bowie." 

Tom's  jaw  dropped,  and  for  a  moment  he  acted 
as  if  too  full  for  utterance.  This,  then,  was  the  out- 
come of  all  those  other  bitter  pursuits — poor  Captain 
Crawford's  death — the  general's  painstaking  methods ! 

"  That  dog-gone  liquor !  "  he  growled. 

Jimmie  sprang  forward,  and  saluted  the  lieutenant. 

"  I'd  like  to  go  with  the  packs,  sir." 

"  You  would  ?  Why  ?  You've  been  once,  and  you 
know  what  it  means  ?  " 

"  Well,  I'd  like  to  try  again,  sir.  I  won't  get 
enough  till  Geronimo  gets  enough." 

The  lieutenant's  face  lighted  up. 

"If  that's  your  spirit,  there's  no  man  I'd  rather 
have  with  me.  So  you  and  Moore  settle  it  between 
you," 

And  he  galloped  on. 

"  Gosh,  but  this  will  break  the  general  all  up," 
muttered  Tom.  "All  right,"  he  added.  "You  get 
your  outfit  together  and  go  along  with  Maus." 

Chihuahua,  Nana,  and  sixty  or  seventy  others  of 
the  Chiricahuas  still  remained.  Lieutenant  Faison  was 
to  take  them  on,  up  to  Bowie.  Lieutenant  Maus  and 

296 


THE  WORST  ENEMY  OP  ALL 

Lieutenant  Shipp,  with  a  company  of  the  scouts  and 
Jimmie's  pack-train,  set  out  in  the  opposite  direction. 

But  it  was  no  use.  Geronimo  had  been  thoroughly 
frightened  by  the  stories  told  him.  Now  his  party 
traveled  afoot,  over  country  where  horses  and  mules 
could  not  travel.  In  three  days  the  trails  had  split  and 
had  become  impossible,  and  the  scouts  had  to  give  up. 

So  the  command  turned  back.  When  they  arrived 
at  Bowie  on  April  3,  this  1886,  they  learned  that  General 
Crook  was  no  longer  the  commander  in  Arizona! 


XXVIII 
THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL 

THAT  was  a  stunning  blow  to  the  Crook  men. 
The  general  had  been  relieved  of  his  command  on 
April  2,  at  his  own  request. 

As  far  as  might  be  learned  by  the  rank  and  file, 
and  the  pack  service,  the  President  had  not  approved 
of  the  terms  upon  which  Geronimo  had  surrendered; 
but  by  this  time  Geronimo  had  fled  again.  Then  the 
dispatches  from  General  Sheridan,  commanding  the 
Army,  to  General  Crook,  had  somewhat  questioned  the 
wisdom  of  the  general's  methods  in  depending  upon 
the  scouts,  and  suggested  that  he  now  make  no  more 
campaigns  for  a  while,  but  try  to  protect  the  border 
with  his  troops. 

The  general  had  replied  that  he  still  believed  his 
methods  were  the  best,  under  the  conditions;  that  he 
had  been  using  the  troops,  to  protect  the  border;  and 
that  it  had  been  impossible  to  hold  Geronimo  as  a 
prisoner  and  not  break  the  promise  given  him. 

To  attack  Geronimo  in  camp  had  likewise  been  im- 
possible of  success. 

"  It  may  be,  however,  that  I  am  too  much  wedded 
to  my  own  views  in  this  matter,"  the  general  was  said 
to  have  added,  "  and  as  I  have  spent  nearly  eight  years 
of  the  hardest  work  of  my  life  in  this  department,  I 
respectfully  request  that  I  may  now  be  relieved  from  its 
command." 

298 


THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL 

The  Apache  medicine-men  at  Fort  Bowie  made 
more  medicine,  and  insisted  that  if  Ka-e-ten-na  and 
other  runners  were  sent  after  Geronimo,  as  soon  as 
the  whiskey  left  him  he  would  keep  his  word  and 
come  in  peaceably. 

This  was  not  done,  because  Brigadier  General 
Nelson  A.  Miles,  of  the  Fifth  Infantry,  commanding 
at  Fort  Leavenworth,  Kansas,  had  been  directed  to 
take  command  of  the  Department  of  Arizona.  This 
of  course  meant  new  methods,  and  a  shake-up  all 
'round. 

Not  knowing  exactly  what  was  ahead,  Jimmie  left 
the  pack  service  and  became  a  railroad  telegraph 
operator. 

At  any  rate,  General  Crook  had  not  failed.  Eighty 
of  the  Chiricahuas,  including  Chihuahua  and  Nana, 
had  been  brought  in.  Only  Geronimo  and  Nah-che 
and  their  twenty  men  and  boys  and  thirteen  women, 
were  out.  And  the  Mangas  squad  of  six  men,  who 
had  not  been  with  Geronimo  for  almost  a  year. 

General  Miles  arrived  at  Fort  Bowie  on  April  12. 
He  immediately  organized  things  for  a  campaign  with 
the  regular  troops.  The  War  Department  did  not 
favor  trusting  in  the  scouts  as  fighters — especially  in 
the  scouts  from  the  White  Mountain  and  Chiricahua 
friendlies. 

The  General  Crook  scouts  had  been  discharged, 
and  so  were  many  of  the  interpreters.  Tom  Horn  left. 
Yes,  there  was  a  decided  shake-up. 

But  the  new  general  seemed  to  be  a  good  man,  all 
right,  and  the  Arizona  newspapers  put  much  faith  in 

299 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

him.  He  extended  the  heliograph  service,  until  a 
perfect  network  of  stations  had  been  established;  and 
he  injected  fresh  vim  into  the  officers. 

Suspecting  that  they  were  to  get  no  terms  at  all, 
now,  and  to  show  that  they  despised  the  soldiers,  Geron- 
imo  and  Nah-che  went  thoroughly  bad.  Perhaps 
General  Crook's  methods  might  have  been  better ;  per- 
haps not;  but  toward  the  last  of  April  Geronimo  and 
Nah-che  led  their  few  warriors  straight  up  past  Tucson 
itself;  the  troops  had  not  been  able  to  protect  the 
border,  and  Nah-che  penetrated  clear  to  Fort  Apache. 

They  lost  only  one  man.  He  was  a  deserter,  and 
volunteered  to  follow  them,  as  "  Peaches  "  had.  The 
troops  did  heroic  work.  Lieutenant  Lloyd  Brett,  of  the 
Second  Cavalry,  marched  twenty-six  hours  without  a 
halt;  his  troopers  were  forced  to  drink  their  own 
blood,  to  quench  thirst. 

Captain  Henry  W.  Lawton,  of  the  Fourth  Cavalry, 
and  Captain  Leonard  Wood,  assistant  surgeon  in  the 
army,  were  selected  to  push  the  pursuit  through  Mex- 
ico, with  a  picked  command  of  the  Eighth  Infantry  and 
Fourth  and  Tenth  Cavalry.  Surgeon  Wood  was  in- 
structed to  see  if  the  men  could  not  outdo  even  the 
Apaches. 

Tom  Horn  went  in  charge  of  some  Ton  to  and 
Yuma  trailers.  The  Lawton  and  Wood  column  made 
terrific  marches;  altogether,  fourteen  hundred  miles. 
On  July  13',  three  hundred  miles  into  Mexico  they  sur- 
prised the  Geronimo  and  Nah-che  camp,  as  Captain 
Crawford  had  surprised  it,  the  January  before. 

Nah-che  had  been  wounded ;  he  and  Geronimo  and 

300 


THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL 

their  band  barely  escaped.  They  sent  word  to  a  Mexi- 
can woman  (the  wife  of  the  interpreter  Jose  Maria 
Yaskes)  that  they  desired  to  surrender. 

It  was  a  Crook  man,  after  all — Lieutenant  George 
Gatewood — who  performed  the  bravest  act;  and  a 
General  Crook  method  that  clinched  the  surrender. 
From  Fort  Apache  the  lieutenant,  under  orders  by 
General  Miles,  traveled  down  with  only  Kah-yee-ta,  the 
deserter,  and  Martinez,  another  Chiricahua,  to  find  the 
hostile  camp  and  talk  with  Geronimo.  This  was  done. 
Lieutenant  Gatewood's  life  hung  by  a  hair;  but  his 
talk  had  effect,  for  in  the  morning  Geronimo,  Nah-che, 
and  their  warriors  surrendered  to  Captain  Lawton. 

Lieutenant  Gatewood  had  been  instructed  to  offer 
them  no  terms  whatsoever,  except  that  their  lives  would 
be  spared ;  the  captain  offered  the  same  terms. 

Geronimo  agreed  to  march  along  with  the  column, 
just  as  before.  He  and  his  men  were  still  very  sus- 
picious, but  he  sent  Porico  up  to  General  Miles  as  a 
pledge  of  good  faith. 

The  general  met  him  at  the  border,  on  September  3. 
Geronimo  did  not  know  that  while  he  had  been  out,  all 
the  Chiricahuas  upon  the  reservation — Chato,  Ka-e- 
ten-na,  and  all — had  been  moved,  and  were  started  for 
Florida. 

"  This,"  as  Tom  Moore  explained  to  Jimmie,  "  took 
the  sap  out  of  him.  He  had  no  base  of  trouble,  any 
more.  Nah-che  hadn't  come  in  with  him,  but  he  sent 
out  after  him,  and  the  whole  band — what  there  was  left 
of  them — were  packed  aboard  the  cars  on  September  8, 
and  now  they're  on  their  way,  too.  Let's  see — this  is 

801 


GENERAL  CROOK  AND  FIGHTING  APACHES 

1886.  How  long  have  you  known  Geronimo, 
anyhow  ?  " 

"  Sixteen  years/'  said  Jimmie. 

"  Well,  you'll  never  see  him  again." 

And  Jimmie  never  did. 

He  never  saw  General  Crook  again,  either.  The 
general  had  resumed  command  of  the  Department  of 
the  Platte;  and  as  major-general  was  assigned  to  the 
command  of  the  Division  of  the  Missouri,  with  head- 
quarters in  Chicago. 

But  he  was  not  forgotten  in  Arizona.  The  Indians 
at  the  San  Carlos  and  the  Fort  Apache  reservations 
continued  to  hold  him  in  their  hearts.  Jimmie  hap- 
pened to  be  at  Fort  Apache,  on  business,  when  in  the 
spring  of  1890  the  news  of  the  general's  death  was 
received. 

The  old  men  and  women,  and  all  the  White  Moun- 
tain scouts,  "sat  down  in  a  great  circle,  let  down  their 
hair,  bent  their  heads  forward  upon  their  bosoms,  and 
wept  and  wailed  like  children."  And  in  the  far  north 
the  Sioux  also  lamented  the  passing  of  their  conqueror 
but  friend,  the  Gray  Fox. 


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